


You're Playing with Now Til the End of The Night

by Gallowmere



Series: Addicted - An Angel Dust Series [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Husker might be in it too?, Idk I find him hard to write, Sequel to Red Smoke & Pouring Rain, There will be violence but not graphic, This will be darker than the previous, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 44,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26154463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallowmere/pseuds/Gallowmere
Summary: Angel has left his life with Val behind. But Valentino has no intentions of making it that easy, and takes aim at everything Angel has come to love. [T/w: discussions of domestic violence and it's consequences]. Sequel to 'Red Smoke and Pouring Rain'. Please R &R!
Relationships: Angel Dust & Charlie Magne, Angel Dust & Molly (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Addicted - An Angel Dust Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899277
Comments: 228
Kudos: 124





	1. Life at the Hotel

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey, I’m back! It’s sequel time to ‘Red Smoke and Pouring Rain’, so please read that first before you read this (but if you don’t want to, all you really need to know going into this one is that Angel has broken free from Valentino and the other Hazbins are aware of some of the stuff Val did to Angel). This one might not be as long as the previous, but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Funny story, I realised after the fact that the title sounds similar to a comic one of the animators made, which was just called ‘Red Smoke’. There’s a really good sound dub of it on YouTube, the VA does Val’s voice excellently. I hope he sounds similar to that in the show. 
> 
> Anyways, on with the story!

A/N: Hey, I’m back! It’s sequel time to ‘Red Smoke and Pouring Rain’, so please read that first before you read this (but if you don’t want to, all you really need to know going into this one is that Angel has broken free from Valentino and the other Hazbins are aware of some of the stuff Val did to Angel). This one might not be as long as the previous, but I hope you enjoy!

Funny story, I realised after the fact that the title sounds similar to a comic one of the animators made, which was just called ‘Red Smoke’. There’s a really good sound dub of it on YouTube, the VA does Val’s voice excellently. I hope he sounds similar to that in the show.

Anyways, on with the story!

Chapter 1: Life at the Hotel

Who knew relative safety could be so boring and so incredible at the same time?

For a few weeks now, Angel had been free of Val and managing to stay under his radar. They had done everything they could to make Angel’s clean break work – kept him cloistered in the hotel so Val wouldn’t find him, even destroyed his old phone and given him a burner to use, courtesy of Charlie. They’d even – after some arguments between Charlie and Vaggie – let him get clean little by little, instead of all at once.

That had happened after one or two nasty relapses. Angel had had a stash kept in his room with the thought of using it in emergencies – namely, if Val had taken his frustrations out on him and the only way to deal with it was to get totally off his face.

But now he was free – _free –_ of Val. The hammer was sure to come down on him any day now, but in the meantime, Angel was left with...nothing. Just the total, mind-numbing quiet of the hotel. 

And while being woken in the morning by Charlie and having an almost cordial breakfast with the others filled him a feeling so odd he couldn’t describe it, only knew it left him sometimes wanting to cry...often the rest of the day was quiet.

And there was only so many times he could give himself something menial and distracting to do, or call Cherri, before it happened.

He started to think.

He started to remember.

Everything Val had done. Everything clients had done that had hurt him, and he’d just numbed it behind PCP or turf wars or drink or going out dancing.

Everything he hadn’t believed mattered  all that much before. They were just  _things_ that happened sometimes in his day to day life, and that was that.

But now here was Charlie, acting like that wasn’t true.  And as much as he wanted to snap at her – and sometimes did – that she didn’t  _really_ think he was worth anything, it was all for her project...he knew it wasn’t the case.

B ut that didn’t make it easier. 

And worse, now she was basically all he had. He wasn’t sure what to  _do_ with himself, now he didn’t have to turn  tricks or work anymore. 

He wasn’t exactly ‘Angel Dust’, now. But he wasn’t his old self, either.  So he went by Angel, and tried day after day to figure out what he should  be . 

The oddest thing about that was that Vaggie seemed most invested in seeing what new direction he would pick. She kept making little comments here and there that  made him think twice about things he never questioned before. 

Like one morning, he was getting breakfast when she said, “We don’t have a shortage on cereal, y’know, Angel.”

“What’s that, toots?” he said, half-asleep. Another luxury the hotel gave him was the ability to lie in occasionally, something that was practically unheard of when he worked for Val. Jumping off the party lifestyle seemed to be catching up with him; all he wanted to do lately was sleep. 

“You always put so little in the bowl. You don’t have to. We aren’t hurting for money.”

“Oh, well…” He looked down. “I’m on a...diet.”

She raised her eyebrows as he trailed off. Of course, he’d only been watching what he ate because Val told him to. Val had been so hot and cold with Angel about his looks – some days he praised him, called him the most gorgeous thing in the studio, other days he told him his eyes looked puffy, he was getting too soft in the middle, he should really switch to alcohol that wasn’t full of sugar…

He tipped more cereal into the bowl and hastily sat down and started crunching.

“We aren’t short of milk either,” she said, smiling a little.

“I like it like this,” he said, through crunches.

Charlie breezed into the room, already dressed. She was like that; an early riser who seemed to give Vaggie more energy, too, though Angel was sure she’d love to sleep in every once in a while, too. “ Mornin’! How is everyone?”

“Well, Husk isn’t up yet, I have no idea where Alastor is and I’m pretty sure Nifty was cleaning out more rooms already…”

“Not a status report, Vaggie,” Charlie said, draping her arms around her girlfriend and squeezing her tight. “I meant _generally.”_

“Good. Except Angel’s eating cereal without milk and it’s freaking me out.”

He flipped her off, but she just grinned back at him.

“Pretty open itinerary today,” Charlie said, sliding into her seat. “Any plans, Angel?”

Plans. He paused mid-crunch, thinking hard. “Uh…”

Vaggie raised an eyebrow, watching him closely.

His mind went to Fat Nuggets. He longed to walk his pig, but he couldn’t go far from the hotel, not until he knew Val had given up trying to find him…and all he’d been able to do was let the poor creature roam around out back.

A sudden lightbulb went off in his mind. He swallowed his mouthful of dry cereal. “Actually, yeah. I was thinking, Charlie – that, uh, space out back? It’s a bit...sad, right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I been walking Nuggs there, and it just occurred to me – maybe I could turn it into a garden or something?”

Charlie smiled so widely he was amazed her face could contain it. “Really?” Even Vaggie looked pleased.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, if I made it nicer, it might attract people to the hotel and all that...once peeps know ya got a better offer going here, why would they refuse, right? And Nuggs’d really love some grass to roll around on and shit.”

She nearly launched herself over the table and grabbed him in a hug. “I love it! It’s a great idea, Angel! In fact, why don’t we get Nifty to help you out?”

“I will, too,” Vaggie said softly. “With the design I mean. I’ll help you draw up some ideas…”

“Neat.” He winked at her. “It’s a date then, toots.” She was still squeezing hard; he had to pat her arm to get her to let go. “Princess, ya gotta let me breathe sometime.”

Charlie swung back, beaming. “This is _amazing_! I’m gonna go find Nifty and see if Alastor wants to help! D’you wanna see how much space you think it’ll take out back.”

“Uh, sure. I gotta let Nuggs out for his morning business, anyways.”

Vaggie was still smiling when he went off to get dressed, and it was spooking him out a little. It occurred to Angel he’d never really asked why she was down here, or why she was part of the hotel staff instead of a patron like he was. She was oddly forgiving of some things and not others, too. She hated the studio and Val, it seemed, but she never seemed to expect him to go celibate, either. Though it was obvious she and Charlie wanted him to settle down with someone like lovey-dovey newly-weds. Angel couldn’t really picture that, but one thing at a time, he supposed…

He gathered up Fat Nuggets in his arms and headed for the back of the hotel, humming to himself.

A garden. Yeah, that’d do the trick and keep him busy. And if Nifty was there, too, he’d have all the conversation he needed to stop his thoughts drifting.

He stepped outside, shut the door behind him, and stopped dead.

A long, familiar limo was parked a few feet away.

And Val was leant up against it, watching him.


	2. Valentino at the Hotel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Noticed some typos on the previous chapter, so went back and fixed. It was originally longer, but I split it into two for the purposes of getting a cliffhanger. 
> 
> Anyways, reviews much appreciated!

Angel barely had time to figure out what to do when Val started to walk forward. “Hello, darlin’. Been awhile, hasn’t it?”

“V...Val… what’re you doing here?” Angel felt himself tensing up, grateful when Val stopped just out of arm’s reach. That wouldn’t make a difference if Val decided to get physical, though. Angel quickly set Fat Nuggets down, hiding the pig behind his legs. 

Valentino was staring at him, confused. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket – Angel tensed before realising it wasn’t one of the red ones, just a regular one – and lit it. “Why wouldn’t I be here, Angie baby? You must know I’ve been wanting to talk to you, face to face.”

“Why? I-I left you a note. I don’t got nothing to say to you.”

Val blew out a big cloud of smoke, a sorrowful look coming over his face. “Listen to yourself, darlin’. How many years have we known one another? You’ve been my side for most of your time in Hell, haven’t you. I raised you from a pissant mobster to the greatest entertainer in Hell. And you just up and leave without a proper goodbye? Can you imagine how much that hurt me?”

Angel bit the inside of his cheek, holding himself back from responding. Charlie had managed to arrange to get some books from the living world for him – stuff about abuse, gaslighting, all that sort of thing. Boring and depressing to read, but really bloody familiar at the same time. 

He tried to remind himself of what he’d read as he stared at Val. No matter what, Val would try to make him feel bad. He’d justify every hurt he’d inflicted on Angel while exaggerating anything and everything Angel had done to him. 

But even then, it was hard not to doubt himself, not when what Val was saying was – on the surface, at least – true. 

So instead he said, “I’m not coming back with you, Val. No matter what you say to me.”

Val took a deep long drag on his cigarette, so coolly and calmly Angel was starting to think he hadn’t heard him at all. “My employees would’ve found you out eventually, Angel. There’s nothing in this town that doesn’t get back to me eventually.” And then he actually laughed, like they were just having a casual conversation. “Y’know, I actually found where you were when I went back over your old clips. The good old days, when you were building reps singing and dancing in the clubs, remember?”

Angel did remember. He said nothing. 

“I remember it well, sweetheart. I told all the clubs, I knew you were going to make me a fortune. I knew you’d be a huge star, and I was right.”

Angel still said nothing, and maybe Val could sense he wasn’t helping his case, because he changed tack suddenly. “Anyway, Angie, I happened to see this news report from a few weeks back...and at least I understood why you left me. The pretty little princess promised you redemption, didn’t she?”

Angel bit his lip. “So what if she did?”

Val laughed again, like it was all a big joke. “Oh, Angie...we really have gone off the rails, haven’t we? Weren’t the parties and drinks and dust enough for you? You thought you could cheat your way into heaven, huh?”

“No, I-”

“Angel, Angel, Angel. Darlin’. Listen to me. Don’t you overlords like myself and Voxy have considered if there’s a way out of here before?” He raised his arm like he was going to reach out to Angel, stopped when Angel tensed. “Well, there’s not. The only way out is the cleansing once a year, and that’s all. They don’t call this Hell for nothing, Angie, darlin’. The only way to live here is to win, to dominate.”

Angel folded his arms around himself, waited. It sounded like a justification for everything, not an apology. 

Sure enough, Val didn’t apologise. He just threw his cigarette down, stamping it out with his heel. “I know why you’re doing this, Angie. Why you’re acting out this way. You’re just a little bored and frustrated, right?”

“Tired,” Angel said, softly, determined to say something. “I’m tired, Val. I’m tired of-” Being scared of you, he wanted to say, but he stopped himself. It was the truth, a truth he desperately wanted Val to hear. But it was also dangerous. Everything he said or did would just be filed away for use against him. 

“I know, Angie. You think I don’t get tired of the business every once in a while? It’s tiring for me to have to direct everything and everyone at the studio, you know. That’s why I have to have control of every part, you understand. And you’ve been instrumental to it, Angel. Think about that.” He walked closer, ignoring the way Angel inched closer to the hotel doors. If he called for the others, would they hear him in time? The distance to the limo was nothing at all if Val brought out the right smoke and tried to drag him along…

“Listen, we can talk about adjusting the work you do. I bet you’d love to run with me on some jobs, wouldn’t you, Angel? And we can talk about that – so long as you don’t mess up that pretty face of yours…”

Angel took a deep breath. Say no. All he had to do was open his mouth, say no, then just run off inside. 

“But I just need you to come home, all right, sweetheart?”

Angel nearly choked on his disbelief. “Home?”

“Yes.” Val held his gaze, deadly serious. “I’m the only family you have, Angel. Don’t you remember how your blood kin treated you? This...hotel will be just the same. Once they realise no demon can ever go straight, no matter how hard they try – they’ll kick you out.”

“No,” Angel said. He tried to back off as Val approached further, his back hitting the door as the overlord cupped Angel’s face in his hand. “No,” he said, trying to push him off. Val caught hold of his wrist. Fat Nuggets seemed to sense Angel’s distress and started oinking, trying to get out from behind Angel to get at Val. Angel desperately moved his leg, but pushing Fat Nuggets back was all he could do. Val pointedly looked down at the pig before looking back up at Angel. 

“Last chance, baby,” Val said, softly. “I want you home in the next few days. With me, in my studio, where you belong. With your family.”

Angel hissed, pulling further away and trying desperately to find the doorknob so he could get away. “Yeah? Well maybe I gotta new-”

“Then you’d hate to see anything happen to them. Wouldn't you?” Val’s voice was flat, his eyes like flint. He dropped Angel’s wrist, letting him stagger back against the door, but didn’t pursue him any further. “Last. Chance. Sugar. Come home to the Studio. Put everything back in its proper place. Otherwise...well, I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

He leant back from Angel, raising both hands in a wave, and walked casually off to the limo. Without so much as a backward glance, he climbed in and the car took off. 

Then it was quiet again. Angel stood there, arms wrapped around himself as he started to shake. It took Fat Nuggets oinking and gently nipping his boot to snap him out of it. He dropped to his knees, scooping up the pig and holding him close.

“You’re all right,” he said, holding him tight as his pet snuggled against him. “I won’t let him hurt you. You’re gonna be all right.” 

But even as he said it, his stomach was tying itself in knots. Everything had just gotten the furthest thing from all right it could possibly be.


	3. The Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We’re back in Flashback City, but there aren’t as many in this fic, I promise. This one takes place early on after Angel starts working for Val; it’s kind of a funhouse mirror look at how Angel went from one bad ‘family’ to another. 
> 
> TW: Some offensive & misogynistic language

YEARS AGO…

Angel hummed to himself as he walked down the street, bag of dust in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It’d been awhile since he felt this good, but he knew he’d get there in the end – he was tough, he didn’t take shit from anyone. All he’d had to do to get back on top in Hell was forget everything he’d known when he was alive: all the repression, all the shame. There were better ways of dealing with that than with PCP. And becoming a star doing everything his family would have hated was the best way he could think of. 

Better yet, Val told him that his new movie was breaking all records. It was like nothing he had seen before, the Overlord told him. Then he said: 

“I knew you’d bring me fortune the first time I laid eyes on you, Angel. All of this was supposed to happen.”

That had surprised Angel. He’d thought Val wanted him onside because he was after Angel’s territory, meagre though it might have been, and gotten himself some extra muscle at the same time. He wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that the Overlord had noticed him for his looks and potential as a performer before anything else…

He was almost back to the studio when he turned the corner and nearly walked straight into the back of another demon – Henroin. 

Angel frowned, backing up a few steps and shoving his PCP in suit pocket. “The hell’re you doing here?”

Henroin turned, pushing the rim of his hat up as he inspected his son. His perpetual grouchy look turned grouchier as he considered Angel, taking in the tux and the shorts and the thigh-high boots with a harsh eye. For a moment Angel felt like a child again, about to be scolded by a disapproving parent. 

Then the moment ended. “I said, what’re you doing here?” He folded his lower arms around his middle and glared right back, refusing to be cowed.

“Your brother said there was buzz going around that you’d been doing – this.” He jerked his thumb towards the porn studio just behind them, distaste wrinkling his nose. “So I came to scope it out. Wasn’t expecting to finding you looking like this, Anthony.”

Angel bristled. “I don’t call myself that no more, Pops. And looking like what, huh?”

His father shrugged. “Cheap. You’re doing tricks on the side, aren’t you?”

Angel scowled. He might have been filming porn, but Val had never asked him to do any work outside of it – he was too special to Val for that. And more than that, in Hell, everyone was awful in some way, but they weren’t all rampant homophobes like they were when he was alive. He was finally free to explore his sexuality without fear or judgement. He felt like he could breathe for the first time. 

And besides…

“So what if I am?” he said instead. “Nothin’ wrong with that, is there.”

But Henroin scoffed. “I was right about you all along. Shoulda known…”

“Right about me?” Angel hissed, losing his temper. “You and my brother are just like all the other hoodlums down here – two bit nobodies. And you can’t stand the fact that I’m the one who’s famous and successful. Soon everyone in Hell’s gonna know my name! And it’s all because of everything you hate. No wonder it’s eating you up inside.”

A muscle in Henroin’s face twitched. He took out a cigarette, lit it, then threw it to the ground in a fit of agitation and stamped on it. “You tryin’ to say I’m jealous of you? Who’d be jealous? You’re nothin’ more than Valentino’s whore, aren’t you?” He laughed at the look on Angel’s face, taking out another cigarette and waving the match at the studio behind them. “Not even that though. He’s not even paying you for the benefit, is-”

A gunshot rang out and Henroin swore, dropping the match and cradling his bloody hand. “Motherf-”

“No more of that,” Val said. He walked out of the studio, smoking pistol raised, and got between Angel and Henroin. 

“You lousy bastard-”

Val smacked him with the butt of the pistol so hard that he was thrown to the floor, unable to rise as he still cradled his hand. “No one speaks to my star employee like that,” he said, a faint buzz under his calm tone. He raised the pistol again, pulling back the hammer. “I’ve killed bitches for less.”

“Wait, Val!” Despite himself, Angel grabbed his arm, pulling the gun to one side. “Don’t. He’s my-”

“I know who he is, Angie,” Val said, eyes still fixed on Henroin’s quivering form. He rounded suddenly on Angel, fury in the eyes behind those shaded sunglasses. “No one speaks to you like that, do you understand? My Angel Dust lets no one shame him for what he is.”

“I know that, boss! It’s just- he’s family-”

Valentino seized his chin with his free hand, pulling him forward. “I’m your only family now, Angie, baby. Understand? I’d never force you to hide who you are. I celebrate what you do. I’m all you need.”

Angel nodded, paralysed by the anger in Val’s eyes. He’d never seen the moth demon look that way before. Val was still staring at him, refusing to let him go. He realised what he wanted. “Yes, boss,” Angel agreed quietly. 

Val released him, his expression clearing suddenly like sunshine after a storm. “Speaking of – we were supposed to be celebrating. Didja get the shit?”

Angel raised the wine bottle into view.

“Good, darlin’. Let’s go inside and start our night.” And he grabbed Angel’s wrist, pulling him towards the studio, leaving Henroin collapsed on the ground.

“Anthony-” he gasped. “Wait-”

They stopped at the door, Val looking back at Angel. “Do it,” he hissed. “Tell him.”

Angel’s heart sank. He knew what Val wanted, but this one was harder to agree to. But he nodded anyway, looking back down at the crumpled, pathetic mess of his father on the floor. “My name is Angel Dust,” he said. “Don’t come looking for me again, Pop- Henroin.”

And he turned away, sure he heard a sound just like a sob from the spider demon. Val’s arms were around his shoulders, steering him indoors to the beat of the raging party, and Angel hardened his heart. It was a sound of pain, not of upset. Henroin had never cared for him – had always judged him. He was done waiting to be someone he wanted to be. He looked up at Val, hands tight around the wine bottle in his hands. 

Val had come through for him. He’d been so angry because of how Henroin treated him, he’d actually come to his defence. That was what it was.

He was sure of it.


	4. The Web

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So Henroin’s in this one. He’s a bit harsher than in the flashback. There isn’t much canon material to go on, so I’m just going off my headcanons for this so far. Hope that’s OK! Angel’s other family do show up later, just not quite yet.
> 
> Reviews much appreciated! Thanks for all the comments so far.

Angel slipped out of the hotel early that morning. He was armed to the teeth and ready to make a run back to Hazbin in case any of Val’s men tried to jump him, but he didn’t see anyone around. On the plus side, he didn’t have to worry about being followed any more now that Val knew where he was.

Of course, the downsides included literally everything else. 

He’d debated all night what to tell the rest of the hotel about it, if he was going to tell them at all. It took everything he had just to get through the day without suspicion, his mind was so busy working a mile a minute to figure out just what in Hell he was going to do. Because he’d brought this danger on them all, when it came down to it. Part of him wanted to run right back to Valentino this second and beg for forgiveness, even if he had to get on his knees (in more ways than one). The girls would be frustrated, but he knew Charlie had read the same boring books about abuse that he had. He knew she knew that victims often went back to their abuser, multiple times at that. Angel could just pretend he was in that part of the cycle, that he really really believed Val would never hurt him again (bullshit, of course, he’d be lucky not to get a limb broken or worse this time around), and the pure innocent Princess would think he needed their support.

And the hotel would be safe, at least for now.

His other thought was to tell them, let the deadline run out, then set Alastor on Val while the rest of them joined in. It was such a wild thought, though – actually taking on an Overlord in earnest and expecting to win. Of course, that was before he even counted all the complications that would arise – for one thing, he had no idea if Smiles would lift a finger to help Angel if it didn’t amuse him in some way, and then there was Vox and Velvet’s reactions to worry about…

If he’d been a more calculating sort, he might have considered enlisting Vox to help. Angel knew well enough that Vox and Val had been in some weird on-again, off-again dance for longer than Angel had been working for Val, and he knew Val barely treated Vox better than he treated Angel. But that was a risky play – for some damn reason Vox seemed to want Val’s affection, or at the very least he didn’t spurn it. Getting him to turn on another Overlord for the sake of a porn star was about as liking as Angel managing to have a conversation with Vaggie without either of them snarking at each other, or catching Alastor without his signature smile. It just didn’t happen down here in Hell. 

He was so lost in thought he didn’t realise he’d gotten where he’d intended to go already. A little garage at the other end of town, a fancy car propped up on cinder blocks sitting nearby. Typical of his Pops. He’d never gotten tired of trying to collect fancy baubles, even if he had to literally fix them up from scratch. 

Angel fidgeted with his bow tie, really feeling how out of place he was for the first time. He’d just thrown on his usual outfit of tux and shorts that morning, but he already knew the look his Pops would fix him with from the thigh-high boots alone. 

Well, whatever, who gave a shit? He hadn’t for years.

Not like he was here for his Pops’ approval, after all. 

Angel crept into the garage, not spotting anyone. He pulled out a pistol just in case, yelled, “HEY! ANYBODY HERE?” as loud as he could. 

There was a long silence and Angel cursed to himself. Shit, what if the family were out on a job? Or, more likely, they were all hungover after some raging all-night party? Angel had known some wild parties when he was working for Val, but the family parties had had an energy all of their own. Mostly it was due to the huge number of friends and relatives his father always invited around and how high-energy they were. Even as a young kid, Angel had been allowed to stay up most of the night for them, collapsing into bed exhausted at the end of it all. 

He remembered he and his sister hiding under the table, eating as much cake as they could handle, then eventually getting so tired they fell asleep together. Later that night their parents had found them and carried the two of them to bed. Angel had a vague memory of being carried, feeling small and safe in someone else’s arms, just being Tony in a family that loved him. 

Then he got older, and things changed.

“Who the hell is yelling-” Henroin snapped, walking into the garage. He spotted Angel and stopped dead. His face went through a quick cycle of expressions – surprise, uncertainty, followed swiftly by distaste. He took in Angel’s outfit, wrinkling his nose just like he did the last time they had seen each other, years and years ago. “Still dressing like that, Tony?”

Angel rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “Hey... Pops.”

“What’re you doing here, Tony? Thought you were some big famous slut now.”

Angel glared at him. It was so, so tempting just to spin around on his high heels and stomp out, putting some bullet holes in the bloody car on his way out. But he had to stay on target for the next five minutes at least. “Look, Pops,” he ground out between gritted teeth. “You know I could give a damn and a monkey’s ass what you think of me. I need to talk to you, and Niss, and Molly. Are – are they around?”

Henroin’s grouchy frown deepened. “What the hell you want to talk to them for?” His look turned darker. “Hope you’re not thinking of talkin’ them into the same kind of crap you’re involved with. I don’t want them exposed to that, Tony. Bad enough you turn up here after all this time lookin’ like a cheap tart.” He turned his back, about to walk off back inside. “You go on and get out, and don’t let me see you here again.”

“Pops-”

“No, Tony!” he whirled around, jabbing his finger angrily at Angel. “You’re the one who ran off to join the Overlord’s freak show, and whore yourself all over Hell! You told me not to come looking for you, Tony – ‘Angel Dust’.” He spat at the ground near Angel’s shoe. “What kind of freak uses the thing they OD’ed on as their goddamn whore name? No, you take your loose ways and you get out of here-”

“WILL YOU JUST SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!” Angel yelled, kicking the bumper of the car so hard it rocked, almost tipping off of the cinder blocks before it fell back into place with a thud. Henroin jumped back, alarmed, staring at Angel like he’d grown two heads. 

The garage was deathly silent, Henroin looking at him with thunder in his eyes. Angel knew that look – it was the look he always wore right before he dished out a beating, or a spanking with his belt. But Angel was taller than him now, taller and angrier. 

“I left Val,” he said. He could see Henroin wasn’t getting it, so he repeated, “I left him, Pops. I left Val, I’m not working at the porn studio anymore.”

Henroin winced at the phrase porn studio – ever the hopeless prude, though Angel was sure the hypocrite had watched some in his time – but he finally looked like he understood what Angel was trying to say. “So – so what, exactly? It’s not gonna-”

“It’s not going to change who I am, Pops, no. It never will, so get your head out of your ass and listen to me.” Angel took a breath, hands planted on his hips as he tried hard to contain his temper. “Look, I just came ta warn ya. I’ve left Val, and he ain’t taking it well. I’m his best moneymaker, and he’s a control freak. He’s threatened me – there’s gonna be trouble if I don’t go back to him in a couple days.”

Henroin frowned, and for a second Angel actually had hope he would be concerned for his safety. But instead he said, “So why’re you here? You think the family is gonna bail you out?”

“Bail me out?” Angel snapped. “Get over yourself! I’m tryna tell you that you might be in danger! Val wants me, but he ain’t above going after any of you to hurt me.”

Henroin walked towards him and Angel tensed up, not sure if he was going to sock him or hug him. But he just looked over at the car, checking the front for damage. Angel cleared his throat. “Didja hear what I just-”

“Yeah, I heard you, Angel!” he snapped, “And you know what? This is so bloody typical of you!”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Always getting in trouble and draggin’ other people – your family - into your messes.” He shook his head, looking at Angel with a mixture of contempt and pity. “Hell, how did any son of mine turn out like you? You couldn’t even be a freak right, could you?”

Angel’s third pair of arms extended out from his sides and then he and his father were grappling, grabbing at one another and hissing and cursing, except Angel was taller now, taller and stronger and he’d make damn sure his waste of a father knew it. He got a pistol in his hand, hitting Henroin’s hand with it as hard as he could and was about to deck him in the face when Henroin shoved him back instead.

They stood in silence for a long, long moment, both breathing hard. 

Angel puffed up his shoulders, staring him down. “Look,” he said. “If you’re any kinda man, you’ll warn Molly and Niss for me. Go to ground for awhile, or tell them to come to the hotel on the other side of hotel – the Hazbin hotel. We have protection there, better than any you got. This ain’t like your piss-easy shootouts with two-bit mobsters, pops. Val’s an Overlord, and if you ain’t scared of him, you’re a bigger fool than I eva was.”

He made to kick the car again, as a last show of spite, but couldn’t bring himself to make the kick connect. Instead he leant down, hand pressed against the bonnet, not looking at Henroin. “Anyway,” he said. “That’s...all I gotta say.” 

Then he turned, and walked out.   
\- -

Angel was fuming the whole walk back to the hotel. Charlie or no Charlie, he’d deck the next person who so much as looked at him wrong. The only saving grace of the situation was that no one was around when he got back, it was still early enough that no one was around. 

Or so he thought. Angel was so ticked off as he marched up the stairs that he totally missed the soft hum of radio static coming from further down the corridor…

He made it to his room, stood just outside with angry boiling in his blood. His pops always did have a talent for getting under his skin. He could never listen. Just judgement, judgement, judgement, all the time.

But as Angel grabbed the door handle, the words playing out again in his head.

Always dragging family into your messes…

Because as much as he’d reject every other word out of Henroin’s mouth...that one stung. It wasn’t exactly false. He’d gotten the whole hotel into this mess. If he didn’t do something and do it quick, all of them were in danger. And if he told them about Val’s threat, they’d want to do something. Charlie for sure, probably Vaggie too, even if it was 80% just because it was what her girlfriend wanted. And as much as the Purity Police could annoy him sometimes...as much as they’d fight and squabble...they were becoming like a family here. 

They’d done more for him than anyone else outside of Molly and Cherri. They helped him when he was ill. They’d supported his leaving Valentino. 

They’d never told him he deserved what had happened to him, because of his line of work. 

All things he’d never have gotten from most of his so-called real family. 

Angel cracked open his door and slipped inside, slumping down to the floor in a fit of sudden exhaustion. This worrying wasn’t like him. The worst he’d have to put up with before was Val’s inexplicable bad moods, and then it was just a case of waiting for the hammer to fall. He was used to that; it was predictable, routine even. 

This wasn’t. This was the constant stomach churning gnawing of knowing Val could have him flat out annihilated at worst, crippled at best in the next few days. Or worse; he could do the same thing to anyone at the hotel. Sweet, cute Charlie. Aloof but good-drinking company Husk. Tsundere, scrappy little Vaggie. Cheery little Nifty. Even creepy, kooky Alastor could get hurt. 

Just then, Fat Nuggets nuzzled against his hand. Angel smiled, raised his hands to pick him up. 

But as he held Fat Nuggets to eye level, his blood froze. 

There was a note pinned to one of his spines.

With shaking hands, Angel picked it off. 

The letter was short, the writing unmistakeable.

ANGIE BABY,

TWO DAYS LEFT. 

DON’T KEEP ME WAITING.

\- V


	5. The Celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Flashback city again! Sorry for the slower update pace but it’s the best I got atm. Anyways, thanks to everyone who commented! I appreciate the feedback. For those waiting to see how Angel handles Val knowing where he is in the present day, afraid you just gotta wait a little longer! This one is the longest chapter by far, too, so hope you enjoy. This got darker than I originally planned in the outline, so please mind the warning below. 
> 
> T/W: Domestic abuse, assault, implied threat of sexual assault, domestic terror

YEARS AGO….

“Hell’re you doin’ here, moth?” 

Normally no one would dare snarl at Valentino so rudely, but Big Davy had long been an exception where common sense was concerned. Angel had never liked him – whereas Val knew when to be classy and when to be intimidating, Big Davy had one speed: charge ahead, like the dumb bull demon he was. It was a miracle his shitty little rival porn studio had kept going as long as it did, so far as Val was concerned. 

Now the two businessmen stood facing one another before a single stage, their respective crews flanking them. Angel stood in his usual spot – just behind Val, his right-hand man and prize performers to all outside eyes. It had been awhile since they faced off against one another, and it pleased Angel to see that all the work he’d been doing hadn’t been for nothing. A lot of the Davy’s crew were looking at him, envy in their eyes. Angel knew that not one of them had made the same impression on Hell as him, and given the way Val had been broadcasting how much money the new star had been making to anyone who would listen, he knew they knew it, too. 

“This is our stage,” Davy growled. “We booked it, we’re performing here. Opening night’s ours, and ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Val replied, keeping his calm even as Davy invaded his space. “Like the owner’s going to want your second-rate bullshit when he sees the heat we’re packing.”

He looked pointedly over at Angel when he said that, and Angel puffed up with pride. Davy’s expression faltered for only a second before he poked Val in the chest with a beefy finger. “If you don’t get out of here right now-”

“Too late for that, sugar,” Angel interrupted, smiling so broadly it exposed his gold tooth. “Venue’s already ours.” All eyes turned on him, including Valentino’s, the shock evident on his boss’ face. Angel grinned his wickedest, most shit-eating grin, milking the moment for all it was worth. 

“What? What’re you talking about, slut?” Davy hissed. Angel’s grin got wider. Slut – the insult of the unimaginative and the desperate. At least Davy was smart enough to know he was about to get screwed.

“Nothin’ much, dumbass – except this.” And he made a show of reaching into his fluff and drawing out the contract he had hidden there. “A little piece o’ paper that says this stage, is ours – from opening night and every night for months, so long as we want it.” He unfolded it, holding it up so everyone could see the owner’s signature at the bottom and the club logo at the top. 

He handed it over to Val, who tried to disguise the fact he had never seen it before and shoved it straight in Davy’s face. Davy read slowly, his face going slack with shock. “This- can’t-” He tried to grab for it, but Val pulled it back, shoved him away. 

“Get the picture?” Val said, folding the contract and slipping it into his coat instead. “Then get out, and take your troop of third-rate hacks with you.”

Davy scowled, turning a shade of red that went all the way to his ears. “”The bloody owner had a deal with me. This isn’t the last of this, moth. Your pretty little whore isn’t going to be able to give every club owner in town a lapdance.”

Val’s hand flew up to smack him, pausing right when Davy flinched back and his troop collectively held their breath. He stopped, lowering his hand and seizing Angel with his others, pulling him forward so he stood next to Val’s side. “Take a good look, Davy,” he said, lifting Angel’s chin with his hand and running the others through Angel’s hair. “He’s got more talent in his little finger than the rest of your troop put together. And you know it.”

He let Angel go, seizing Davy by the lapels and looming over him. “So don’t run your mouth to me until you’re on my level. Is that clear?”

Davy stared up at him, the same deer-in-headlights look on his face that Angel had seen on the faces of countless others. He nodded, struck into silence. Far from judging him, his crew looked equally as uncomfortable. Angel could tell they just wanted to go, all of their appetite for a brawl extinguished. For a fleeting moment, he almost felt sorry for them. 

That moment passed when Val let his grip slide and Davy all but staggered back, shrugging his clothes back into place with an angry scowl and practically fleeing to the door. The sight was so pathetic Angel gave in to the laughter building in his chest, and soon Val’s other employees joined in, a disdainful, mocking chorus chasing Davy to the door. 

Then Val turned around. Everyone stopped, waited. A small smile played on Val’s lips before it gave way to his customary frown. 

“That was a waste of all our time,” he said, “And we need to set up for our performances opening night! Everyone get to it!” They all jumped into action when Val pointed dead at Angel and said, “Except you.”

Angel stopped, tensing up. The others looked at him nervously before hurrying off and leaving him alone. “Yes, Mistah Valentino? Somethin’ you needed?”

He appraised Angel for a long time before saying only, “You’ve got the opening dance.”

“Thanks! You won’t regr-”

“I wasn’t done.” He leant down, lowering his voice when he added, “I want you in the VIP section afterwards. You and I have some celebrating to do.”

Angel swallowed hard. That was good, wasn’t it? It meant Val was pleased with him. He’d actually done something right for once.

He nodded, mutely. Val ruffled his hair before walking off to bark orders at the others. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Angel was so anxious about the celebration that the night he spent actually working went by in a blur. It would have been one of the best nights he’d known in Hell otherwise – all of the other performers were elated by their victory over Davy and there was a special kind of electric chemistry in everyone’s bodies, one he knew the crowd felt too by the roars of approval they were giving. Angel felt it, too – he’d won them this stage and his opening dance was among his best performances. He owned the stage and he owned the crowd, too – a current travelled between them that he’d rarely felt before, leaving him feeling like he couldn’t go wrong. Whether singing or dancing or both, their attention was the greatest drug he’d ever known, bolstered only by the congratulations of his colleagues for securing the stage for them and putting Val in a good mood for the night. 

But in his stomach, anxiety remained. 

It didn’t loosen until he was in the VIP room with Val, perched on the edge of a couch, and a wine glass was pressed into his hand. 

He looked up at Val, confused. 

“Drink up, Angie! I told you we needed to celebrate,” Val said, pouring himself a glass. Angel did, tasting the sweetness of fizzy champagne on his tongue. He started to relax, but then Val kept talking. “You really surprised me, darlin’. It worked out for the best, but keep me informed next time, hmm?”

Angel swallowed the wrong way, coughed. “Sure, Val,” he said, hoarsely. “I just wanted to surprise you, y’know.”

“I know. But still – business ain’t your department, doll. Let me know when you got an idea in mind and I’ll see about it, OK?”

Angel nodded, a sour taste in his throat. What was Val’s problem? Why did he always hate Angel taking the initiative? Hadn’t he just won them a sweet deal?

But he bit all his complaints down as Val filled his glass again. If he kept drinking like this, he wouldn’t care about it soon enough…

Sure enough, he soon ended up slumped on one of the couches, Val having accidentally gotten himself as drunk as Angel was. Usually the Overlord’s tolerance was better, but he’d looked a bit tipsy when he came in – probably working more business deals all night over wine coolers… Angel kind of wanted to laugh. If Val had been trying to get Angel drunk by himself, he’d failed miserably. 

Without Vox or the others around, Angel could almost pretend he was just drinking with a friend – Val and he had actually reached that stage of incoherent, drunk chatting where Val actually complained to him about all the bastards he had to deal with. It was almost...nice, when Val was like this. He’d have to encourage his boss to get drunk more often if this was the result. 

“Didja see my opening dance, Val?” Angel asked, slurring his words. “The crowd really-” He mimed clapping. “Y’know? Nights like this are really...y’know?”

“No, Angie, I missed it…” Val said, balance failing him as he slumped to sit down next to Angel. He caught the disappointed look on his face and gripped Angel’s chin in his hand. “Don’ look at me like that, darlin’.”

“But…” Drunk, his disappointment was harder to hide. He didn’t want to rain on their parade, but he didn’t think he’d heard Val be grateful to him out loud. Come to think of it, Val didn’t even ask what he’d had to do (or who) to secure them the deal in the first place. “I did good, didn’t I? Ain’t you gonna thank me for it?”

Sober that comment would have earned him a back hand to the face. But drunk, Val was a bit more forgiving. He just sighed at Angel and let him go.

“All right, Angel cakes, don’t nag – how’s about a reward?” Val downed another glass, spilling some of it down his front. “What would you like?”

“A reward?”

“...Yeah. Anythin’ – anythin’ you want, darlin’.”

Angel thought. Val was still yammering in the background, something about a beautiful choker he’d seen that was virginal white and wouldn’t that be great for a shoot when Angel’s drunk mind produced the answer.

“Lie to me,” he said, staring up at the ceiling.

“What?”

“Lie to me,” Angel slurred, laughing as he said, “Tell me...tell me you wouldn’t kick me out on the streets if I broke my legs and couldn’t dance or fuck well no more.”

“What did you say,” Val said, flatly. 

Angel’s stomach dropped. He looked over at Val – seeing with dread the mounting anger in his face, that only grew with his drunkenness. “’S a joke,” Angel slurred, desperately. He pushed himself up off the sofa, fell onto the floor. “Was joking, boss-” Val seized his clothes in both hands, yanking him forwards, “Val! Plea-”

Val punched him, hard, sending him flying to the ground and Angel barely had time to try and raise his arms to shield his face before Val was on him, yanking his arms out of the way and standing on them, the weight making Angel scream in pain. 

“UNGRATEFUL SLUT!” he bellowed in Angel’s face, punching him again and again and grabbing his head and slamming it back against the ground. “YOU THINK YOU’RE SO CLEVER, DON’T YOU? YOU ARE NOTHING WITHOUT ME!” Angel’s head spun, his ears ringing as he tried desperately to pry his arms free, his drunk state slowing down his ability to get his third set of arms out. Valentino leant close, hitting him again, and black spots bloomed all across Angel’s vision, his third hands shoving at Val’s body with no strength at all. 

Val pulled him up by his front, finally taking his weight off of Angel’s arms, leaving all three to dangle limply by his sides. Angel tried not to shake as cold eyes bore into his. “You know nothing of what it takes to run the Studio, Angel cakes. Don’t act get ahead of yourself ‘cus you landed some deal for a pissant club like this.”

Angel tried to talk but couldn’t get much out besides a weak cough. Finally, he managed to choke out, “Please, Val, I’m sssorry -” He flinched as Val shook him, trying to raise his arms to shield his head. “You - said we were family-” He stopped, not even sure what it was he was trying to say. But Val’s expression changed, some of the thunder cloud briefly clearing. 

“Right,” he said, sounding almost distant. He seemed suddenly so sober, so serious. He dropped Angel to the floor, rested hands on his shoulders and squeezed. Angel tried to catch his breath, grateful for the reprieve even as his heart pounded a mile a minute and his stomach tied itself in knots. 

Val was quiet. He didn’t like it when Val got quiet. 

“You are part of my family, Angel. The family we have here at the Studio. Understand?”

Angel kept silent. He wasn’t sure what he was driving at, but the bad feeling was mounting. 

“And that means every member of the family should know their place,” Val said. His other hands slipped down to Angel’s front, glancing over his front and starting to unbutton his tux. Uncertainty collapsed into animal dread at what was about to happen and Angel started to struggle, Val pressing him down to the floor harder.

“Wait, Val-”

The door opened suddenly, a female voice saying, “Boss, are you-”

Valentino quickly released him, standing and straightening his clothes. “Dia, Summer,” he said sternly. 

“Sorry! We wanted to check you were OK, the- the owner heard noise and he was worried-”

“Angel Dust was causing trouble,” he said calmly, ignoring how Angel sat up slowly and started to button his clothes. “Too much to drink. Why don’t the pair of you take him back to the Studio? He’s done for tonight.” He looked over his shoulder at Angel. “Ain’t that right, Angie?”

His shaking hands had just finished fixing up his clothes, his body shaking with adrenaline. He looked up, unable to speak even if he’d wanted to. Val tutted, leaning down to speak to him. “Say yes, or the girls can join us playing happy families.”

Angel nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah.” 

His limbs were a shaky mess, and he struggled to stand. Dia and Summer came over and pulled him up, getting out of sight of Val as quickly as possible as they took a back way out of the club. No one said a word about the bleeding and on Angel’s face, or the bruises. 

He got all the way to the limo before the shock caught up with him. One of the girls was patting his shoulder while the other sat near his knee, both of them looking at him with concern.

“What’d you do, Angel? Weren’t the boss happy with you?”

Angel opened his mouth to respond but Summer cut him off. “The boss said what happened. And that’s what happened. We don’t wanna know anything else.” Dia started to complain but Summer shot her a harsh look. “I’m tired,” she complained, flopping down on one of the seats. “Let’s just go back to the Studio.”

It was probably the drink, or knowing that the near-miss with Val would put him on the outs with the Overlord for days so it might have been better for him if no one had interrupted…

He hid his face in his hands, crying quietly. Dia’s hand was still on his shoulder, but she didn’t move to comfort him. The three of them just sat quietly as the car hummed and bore them back to the Studio. 

As soon as they got there, Angel climbed out by himself, refusing any help from the girls. He dragged himself to his room, cleaned up his face, then collapsed into bed, not even bothering to get changed or take off his boots. 

He didn’t come around until hours later, when the door banged open. Angel turned over, groggily, tensing as he recognised the silhouette of Val in the doorway. 

The moth demon staggered over to his bed, even drunker than he’d been earlier. He sat down at the end, sinking the mattress with his weight. Angel held still, feeling more sober than he’d been before, and very aware of how sore his face felt. 

“You shouldn’t’ve done that, doll,” Val said, slurring his words. “You always gotta put me in such a bad mood…”

Angel swallowed, hard. He lifted his arms, pushing the covers down and breathing shakily, just wanting to get the night over with. 

Val looked him up and down, making Angel’s skin crawl. Then the Overlord stood, chuckling to himself. 

“Good night, Angel cakes. I think I’ll go party with the girls...instead.”

Angel’s jaw dropped and he scrambled to get up, to stop Val leaving, but Val was quicker once again, getting to the door and locking Angel inside in a flash. Angel banged on the door, hollering, actually begging Val not to go, but he couldn’t get the door open. Finally he gave up, collapsing against the door with a frustrated groan, breathing hard. He thought Val had gone, but he laughed from the other side of the door.

“I tol’ you, Angel cakes,” he slurred. “When you hurt me, I hurt the others. You’re all my family. And you all have to do what I want if you wanna get along.”

And his footsteps retreated away from Angel’s room, deaf to all of Angel’s repeated incoherent pleas and apologies as he leant up against the door, tugging uselessly at the door handle.


	6. The Choice

Angel read and re-read the note, feeling like he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Val’s handwriting, there was no mistaking it for anything else. And worse, there was the distinct, choking musk of Valentino’s cigar in his room. 

Valentino had been here. Valentino had been here. 

Angel held Fat Nuggets close, checking the pig for signs of hurt or distress. But there was none – Fat Nuggets just oinked happily, snuggling closer to him like always. 

Angel hugged him, tightly, stroking him like he was trying to reassure his pig. Fat Nuggets didn’t need it, though. Angel was the one who was trembling. 

Bloody Val. Angel knew a Sicilian vendetta when he saw one. Valentino hardly need bother with the note when he could have just written LOOK WHAT I COULD HAVE DONE all over the walls. 

Angel checked the rest of the room, found nothing else out of place. Made sense, he supposed. He had no real material goods that’d be worth stealing, not to Val. All he had now were his loved ones. 

He paced the room, trying to breathe evenly enough to think. If Val had been in his room, he must have gotten into the hotel. But how? Didn’t Al say he had the place protected with his weird voodoo shit? And not only that, when Angel had gotten to his door, he hadn’t noticed anything out of place. So that left…

Angel spun around, rushing over to the window. It was pulled to, but the latch was obviously damaged and when he opened it, he found exactly what he expected to see: ash from Val’s cigars dropped on the ledge. 

He tested it with his finger. Cold. Val had been here a while ago. 

Angel pulled it shut again, trying to get the latch to co operate at least enough to shut and give him the illusion of security. Then he turned, slumping down under the sill with Fat Nuggets in his arms, trembling. 

The whole scene came together with sickening clarity – Val must have had someone watch the hotel to figure out which was Angel’s room, then simply walked around the outside and used his red smoke to break the window. 

Angel was squeezing Fat Nuggets too hard, the pig complained until he let him down to wander around the room. He hugged his knees to his chest, trying not to panic. 

Of course Val had found a way around it. Why wouldn’t he have?

Angel pressed his palms against his eyes and groaned, the thought too gruesome to content with. Val had gotten into his room, easily, had picked up his fucking pig and had probably thought for a good long time about killing it and just leaving the mess behind for Angel to find. Just like the mess of so many pets of his own Val had murdered before…

And had Val even known he was out when he dropped by? What if he’d intended to use the red smoke to grab Angel and drag him straight out of the window to the limo?

Or maybe not even that. Maybe he’d just drop him from a great height and break all his limbs, then drug him so much during the recovery he didn’t remember up from down any longer…

Angel stood, pacing again, trying to smooth down the goosebumps on his skin. He yanked the curtains shut, knowing he was giving the game away to anyone who might still be watching but past caring. 

He couldn’t take this any more. Two days left or not, he needed to tell Charlie and Vaggie and the others that Val knew. Putting it off any longer was putting everyone in danger…

Angel ran a hand through his hair, shoved the note in his pocket and pulled himself to his feet. He went through the motions of washing his face and fixing his hair. Then he squared his shoulders, sighed, and walked off down the stairs. 

It was a little later in the morning now, late enough for Nifty to be up and cleaning. As he headed towards the lobby, though, he saw she wasn’t the only one. Charlie and Vaggie were up, drinking coffee at the table together. 

Angel stopped on the bottom step just out of view, an odd feeling coming over him, like he was about to own up for screwing up somehow. He was about to head out when something changed – Vaggie sighed, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands. There was a shake to her shoulders and it looked so odd on her that it took him a minute to realise: Vaggie was crying. 

Charlie put down her mug, her face creasing with empathy. She put her arms around her girlfriend, saying softly, “It’s gonna be OK, Vaggie. Don’t be scared.”

Vaggie shook her head, looking up at Charlie with tears in her eyes. “But how can I protect you?” she cried. “People have been following me around town, Charlie. They’re gonna come after the hotel, and then what? What do we do then?”

“You don’t need to protect me, Vaggie. I’m the daughter of Hell’s head honcho, remember? With my own pair of bodyguards and an ace in the hole. Come on, it’s not like you to panic like this. We’ve got this under control.”

Angel sunk down, sitting on the stairs as he listened in. Hell, he hated hearing girls cry. It reminded him far too much of Molly…

And there was no way such a hardass like Vaggie would be crying like this if someone hadn’t at least threatened her – or, more likely, Charlie. Angel folded his arms on top of his knees, rested his head against them tiredly. At least he wasn’t the only one keeping a few secrets.

“Do we, though?” Vaggie sniffled, trying to get ahold of herself. “It’s good you never made a deal with Alastor, but that means we have no guarantee that he’ll do a damn thing if Val attacks. Hell, I can’t tell if he cares about any of us, much less cares about Angel.”

“Vaggie-”

“You’re my family, Charlie,” Vaggie said, clasping Charlie’s hands tightly in hers. “I can’t let anything happen to you. If it comes to it, let’s not fight...let’s just run.”

Charlie squeezed her hands back. “If we run now, we’ll always be running, Vaggie. I- I wasn’t expecting things to escalate this much, but if I run now, we might as well always be running.”

“But, hun-”

“You’re my family too, Vaggie. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, either.”

Angel pulled at his hair, hands down over his ears. He couldn’t listen to this any longer. He stood, turning to climb back up the stairs and slink back to his room. 

He nearly walked right into Alastor, who was watching him with a narrow-eyed grin. The Radio Demon started to say something but Angel clamped his hand over Al’s microphone and hissed, “Outta the way, Smiles,”, before hurrying back up the stairs to his room. Angel turned back at the top, found Alastor still watching him, a curious look in his face. He rushed back to his room, slamming and locking the door, and diving right back under the covers of his bed, fully dressed. 

He knew full well there was a chance Val would come for him again, and if he used the same strategy as earlier, he’d likely find him. 

But Angel didn’t care.

Because he couldn’t deny the obvious any longer: there was only one option. 

He had to go back to Val. 

Always getting into trouble and draggin’ other people into your messes, Henroin had said. 

Not this time, Pops, Angel thought to himself, not this time. 

He relaxed into his bed, stress-induced tiredness pinning him to the spot. He was grateful for Fat Nuggets creeping into his arms, warming him up…

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. He checked the window, finding it undisturbed. There was a note on the floor – Charlie saying she didn’t want to disturb him, but please at least eat the leftovers they had put to one side. 

Angel sighed, a deep, bone-weary sigh. He folded the note, putting it in his tux jacket – not like he had any other keepsakes – and snuck downstairs. 

No sign of anyone, and better yet – the bar was unmanned. He walked right over to it, finding Vaggie’s latest attempt to curb their drinking involved putting the hard stuff behind glass and sticking a padlock on it. Angel scoffed, put his fist through it. The smash wasn’t loud, but it seemed to echo in the silence of the hotel. 

He held still, listening. For a second he was convinced he could hear radio static, but it died down again. He put his hand through, grabbing a bottle of wine and some vodka – that’d do the trick for now – and yanked them through, leaving the glass for Nifty to clean up. 

It’d be the last trouble he caused them, at least. 

Back in his room, Angel took to drinking. The burn of the first gulp as it passed his lips was both familiar and bitter. He’d been mostly clean for so long now that drinking gave him an uncomfortable sense of deja vu in his stomach, the sense of here we fucking are again that only came with going back to whatever vice numbed his senses again, and again, and again. 

The thought of going back to Val kept it going, though. There was just no way he could bear it sober, not when he thought of the peaceful weeks he’d had here at the hotel. He almost laughed at the nonsense of all of it – how could he have been so reckless to just jump into this dumb project with Charlie, all cus he just needed free rent and a place to crash, anywhere to crash, that wasn’t the damn Studio? He could’ve couch-surfed at Cherri’s for awhile instead…

And now Val was going to keep him under lock and key, so he’d probably never get to see her, or Charlie, or Husk, or Smiles, or even Vaggie again. 

The bottle was empty. Angel opened the other one, giving into the urge to cry sloppy, drunk tears. Fat Nuggets nudged his leg, snuffling a concerned noise at him. 

Hell, this as hopeless. He couldn’t bear to have to sneak out in the morning, he needed to go now – collapse on Val’s doorstep looking drunk and pathetic might do the trick of getting his boss to take it easy on him - 

Angel staggered up, gathering his pig in his arms and squeezing him tight. “G’bye, Nuggs,” he said, hugging him one final time before setting him down. “Be a good pig for...ev’rybody, mm-kay?”

Fat Nuggets didn’t understand, just snuffled at him again and curled up happily in Angel’s bed when Angel set him down. Angel felt his heart crack at the sight, downing a burning mouthful of vodka to chase the feeling away. He dashed a hand over his eyes, swiping the tears away.

And he headed out of his room, nothing of value to take but the clothes on his back. 

He had barely managed to waver his way downstairs when he heard voices coming from the bar. Husk was yelling about something, Alastor’s distinctive radio crackle answering him. Angel tried to go quietly when he got to the bottom of the stairs, but his wobbling around immediately alerted them. 

Husk spotted the bottle in his hand and snapped, “Hey, spider! Hell’re you doing with that? Why’d you break into my bar?”

Angel glared at him, all eight of his eyes shining with anger in the dark, and Husk flinched back. Usually Angel was all flirtatious smiles and soft words with the cat demon, but right now he didn’t have the patience. Alastor tipped his head to one side, eyes narrowing and smile broadening. 

“Something the matter, my good fellow? Are we off the wagon today?”

“Shut UP!” Angel yelled, throwing the bottle at the wall right near Husk’s elbow. It smashed, sending vodka splashing all across the walls and into the fur of Husk’s arm. Angel almost laughed. Good. Husk hated Angel being nice to him, so might as well call it quits if this was the last time they would ever see one another. At least he could trust these two not to look for him. “Leave me- just leave’m alone…”

He was about to go staggering off down the halls to the door when a small voice called, “Angel?”

Shit. 

It was Charlie. 

Angel stopped dead, his head bowed, still wavering from the alcohol. 

“Angel, what’s going on? You’re gone all day, now you’re drinking…?” She sounded so small, so defeated. It hurt. Why’d she have to take everything so personally? 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hard. “An’ I need some goddamn air. ‘M goin’ out, bitch.”

“Don’t start that again!” Vaggie’s voice now, sharp and annoyed. “We’ve talked about you lashing out, Angel, and it’s unacc-!”

Angel slammed his fist against the wall. “I SAID SHUT UP! STOP PLAYING THIS – FUCKING HAPPY FUCKING FAMILIES! I CAN’T STAND-” 

There was a knock at the door. Angel’s anger ran completely dry in an instant. He breathed heavily at the sight of the silhouette outside. 

Val. Val couldn’t even wait the two days he’d promised.

It was Alastor who broke the silence. “Who could that be at this hour?” he chirped. “Be a dear and let them in, won’t you, Angel?”

“Wait-” Charlie said, horror in her voice as Angel reached down, helplessly, for the door. 

Before his hand could even connect, the door was flung open and someone dived at Angel, tackling him to the ground with their arms flung tightly around his middle. 

Angel’s drunk brain took a second to connect the dots – he hit the floor hard, the person on top of him, a person with fluffy white hair, pink spots, a soft, warm person, a body his brain knew immediately was not Val’s.

He breathed a sigh of relief as Molly leant back, beaming up at him as she cried, “Tony! It’s really, really you!” and went right back to hugging him. 

The gathering behind him breathed a collective sigh of relief, Nifty quietly appearing on the scene to clean up the mess Angel had made. Finally Molly leant back, cupping Angel’s face in her hands. “Man, Tony, it’s been so long! Ain’t you got anything to say to your little sister?”

Nothing really gave him the immediate warm fuzzy feeling quite like Molly did. He started to say something reassuring, but the combination of the alcohol and the empty stomach chose this moment to catch up to him. He slapped a hand over his mouth, breathing hard, and the only words he managed to get out were, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

And then he scrambled out from underneath her, bolting down the hall to find a bathroom to do just that.


	7. The Clean Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Shuffled the chapters around to keep the present storyline to the forefront! Enjoy & comments appreciated, as ever!

Angel bolted off down the corridor, leaving a very awkward silence behind him. Molly giggled, looking sheepish as she stood up and brushed down her coat and hair. She shut the hotel door behind her, closing out the cold night, and turned and flashed the gathered group a bright smile. 

“Nice to meetcha,” she said. “My name’s Molly.”

Charlie recovered first. She looked at Molly’s mandible-like fringe, her long swoop of white hair with pink highlights, and six arms. “You said you were Angel’s sister?”

“Twin sister, actually,” she said, a smirk at the corner of her smile that was so Angel-like she couldn’t possibly have been anything else. “Fraternal, that is. ’Course, Tony got all the looks in the family, didn’t he? He’s the pretty one.”

Alastor coughed awkwardly at that. “Perhaps someone should check on Angel? Anyone…?” He paused, clearly waiting for a volunteer, but Molly pushed through the group, heading towards the stairs. But she didn’t go up them, just looked calmly at her watch. 

“Give him a minute,” she said to no one in particular. “His tolerance is pretty good, so he won’t be ill for long.” She looked over at Husk. “You guys get in a fight, sugar?”

He bristled. “Why’d you ask me?”

But she just shook her head and checked her watch again. “A’ight, that’s long enough. Might as well stay put, unless some of ya really wanna come along.”

Alastor followed her to the foot of the stairs. “My dear, is that wise? He did appear a little volatile earlier.”

“Aww, you worried about me, sweets?” She leant down and ran her finger under her chin, Alastor jerking back with surprise. She giggled, the sound high and girlish. “Gosh, they weren’t lyin’ about you.” She looked out over the crowd, shrugging her big coat off right there on the stairs and throwing it at Alastor, whose smile had frozen in place. Molly spotted Charlie at the back of the crowd. “Hiya, Princess! I’m gonna go check on Tony, all right?” She winked. “Let’s do introductions later, yeah?”

“Wait,” Charlie said, finding her tongue. “I need to talk to-”

“No point.” She wrinkled her nose and twirled her hair around her finger thoughtfully as she spoke. “You gotta let him sleep it off before you try’n talk to him again. Trust me on this one.”

“But...why are you here?” Charlie asked, still confused. “Did Angel call you…?”

Husk grunted. “Yeah, I didn’t know he even had a sis-”

Vaggie elbowed him, hard, but Molly didn’t seem to mind. She actually laughed. “Talk later, okay, guys?” and she walked off up the stairs, leaving the rest of them looking around at one another, confused. 

The silence was broken a couple of seconds later, when Nifty grumbled, “This is going to stain! Nope, nope, nope!”

“Weird girl,” Husk grumbled, actually looking a little disturbed by the series of events. “And what the hell was she talking about?”

“What, that she isn’t the looks in the family?” Vaggie said, also looking stunned. “I don’t know, I don’t see it.”

“No, all that other stuff.” He scratched his head. “What’s gotten into the damn spider today?”

“Oh,” Vaggie said, blushing. “I don’t know. What on earth were you yelling about before me and Charlie got here?”

Husk flared up. “I wasn’t yellin’-”

“Our fine fellow came downstairs, my dear,” Alastor interrupted. “And he looked terribly inebriated. Then when we asked what was the matter, he simply lost his temper!”

“Really?” Charlie said. She walked off towards the stairs. “I’m gonna go check on him anyway. Everyone else go to bed-”

“Hun, do you need-”

“Bed, Vaggie.” She turned, sticking her tongue out at her girlfriend with a forced playfulness. “Let management take care of this one.”

But her smile dropped as soon as she turned around, everyone else left standing awkwardly around behind her. 

“Well, whatever. I didn’t even say anything this time,” Husk said angrily, walking off and leaving Nifty grouchily clearing up the mess.

It left Vaggie and Alastor standing there alone. She looked up at him, still unnerved by the Radio Demon’s never faltering cat-like smile. 

“Do you know something?” she challenged him. 

“About what, my dear?”

“...I don’t know,” she said. “I just get the feeling that you do.”

“I know a great many things, my dear! You’ll have to more specific.” And he turned and walked off, humming as he went. 

Vaggie glared after him, planting her hands on her hips. Next to her, Nifty sighed sadly. 

“It went through the whole carpet…” she said sadly, her one eye staring sadly at the stain. 

~ ~

When Molly found Angel’s room, he’d already stopped being ill, just like she’d predicted. He was sitting miserably on the ensuite floor and leaning up against the bath with his legs stretched out in front of him, his skin that pallid colour of the recently sick. 

She knelt down near him, gently popping his nose with her finger. “Hey, Tony. I got your message.”

He met her eyes, more sober but with bloodshot eyes. “Pops told you?”

“Nah. ’Niss did.” She settled on the floor, resting her arms against her thighs as she leant down to look at him more closely. “What’s going on, Tony? Niss said someone’s threatening you?”

“I left the guy I was working for... Overlord, Molls.” He hugged his knees to his chest, all three sets of arms holding on tight. “Gave it all up, and now he’s – he’s gonna come afta me. And he’s gonna go afta anyone else he can hurt while - while he’s at it.” Angel ducked his head against his knees, mumbling, “Ain’t safe here, neither. Ya gotta get Niss and Pops and just go, go somewhere else…”

And he devolved into a slurred mumbling that Molly couldn’t quite work out. 

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Tony,” she said, scooting over to hug him. “I came ta see ya. ‘Cus you’re my twin, and you’re always gonna be my twin.”

He was saying something else, shaking his head, but she ignored him, stroking his hair. “Still so fluffy,” she teased, rubbing the heart-shaped splotch on the back of his head and humming happily when he reached up to hug her with all his arms. She hugged him back and the two of them stayed locked like that, breathing in sync. Molly loved her family, even if her Pops especially drove her nuts pretty often, but Tony was special to her. He was her twin, and she was always going to feel like he was a part of her, no matter what anyone said. 

“Anyways, it’s super late, Tony. Don’t throw me out until mornin’, OK?”

“You gotta get to safety,” he said, not quite focusing on her as his face screwed up. “You gotta…” And he looked up, checking around the bathroom like he wasn’t quite sure of where they were. 

“Come on, Tony,” she cajoled him, extricating herself from his arms and tugging him onto his feet. “Let’s getcha to bed, OK?” She led him out of the bathroom, struck with deja vu over all the times they’d taken care of one another and covered for one another after coming home from sneaking out somewhere. No one knew Tony’s habits better than her, and it reassured her that in all these years of him keeping his distance from the family, some things never changed.

She got the covers back and tugged his tux off his shoulders, looking respectfully the other direction as he climbed into bed and got the covers over him. The whole world might look at him like public property, but Molly was determined not to. 

He sank back into the pillows, his hand automatically petting the cute little pig that had jumped up onto the duvet and snuggled against his hand. She sat by the end, holding his other hand that had sought hers out. She was struck with remembering their youth, all over again.

“I wish you took me with you,” she said softly. “’S not been the same without you, Tony.”

Someone was in the doorway, she could sense it. Molly didn’t look around, letting them choose whether they wanted to come in. She could see by the shadow on the floor that it was probably the Princess.

“I looked up what you’re doing on the news,” she said. “Hell, it’s the craziest thing I ever heard, and I been down here almost as long as he has. Leave it to Tony to get mixed up with somethin’ like that.”

“Are you angry?” the Princess asked.

“Hmm, no. Not wit’ you, doll. None of the others are, either.”

“Others? Angel has family besides you?”

She turned around to look at the Princess, who stood in the doorway like she needed an invite to come in. “Yeah. ‘S me, my Pops, my brother Niss, and Tony. We have a lot more relatives besides, but that’s all ya gotta know about for the time being.”

“Did Angel – your brother – go visit you today?”

“He spoke to my Pops. Apparently we’re all in some sort of danger.”

“Have you…” Charlie took a step inside, the light from the corridor casting her worried features in shadow. “Have you met Valentino?”

“Once,” she said. “Pops only met him once, too. Weren’t long after that Tony cut ties with the family.”

“Oh.”

Molly looked at her sharply, sensing a lot unsaid in that one loaded syllable. “I love Tony. Always have, always will. I don’t care who he loves, I don’t care what his job is. I’m not my Pops.”

“But you still kept away from him?” Charlie said, no judgement in her gaze, just confusion. 

“Not quite, sweetie,” she said, looking back down as Angel fidgeted in his sleep, turning over and hugging closer to his pet pig. His hand stayed in hers. “He’s the one who kept away from us.”


	8. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Still sticking with the present timeline. I’m only planning for one more flashback chapter in this story, since I think they interrupt the pace with this one more than they did in Red Smoke. (Specially now we’re getting to the crunch). The next update probably won’t be as quick btw. But thanks to everyone who commented so far!
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy and please R&R!

Angel groaned as he came around, his head already pounding with a particularly wicked hangover. He reached up to massage his temples, disturbing the covers laid over him as he did so. 

Wait. Covers?

He blinked, trying to clear his wasted vision and realised that yes, he was in a bed, not out on the streets. 

And not just any bed – his bed in his room in the Hotel. 

He hadn’t managed to leave at all. 

He thought hard as he sat up, still rubbing his throbbing skull. Memories of the previous night were hazy – he remembered going downstairs with the intention of delivering himself to Val as much of a drunk sloppy mess as he could manage, and then…

The others were there. He’d made an ass of himself trying to get them to leave him alone. Charlie and her goddamn puppy eyes. And after that-

He remembered the second he also noticed the lingering, familiar perfume in his room: Molly. 

Molly was here, in what was now the worst possible place for her to be if he was going to keep her safe. 

Cursing, Angel climbed out of bed. He changed out of his usual uniform of the job into something harder looking – shirt and slacks – and was about to go to the bathroom when he spotted something sitting on his dresser: buttery toast with the note THANK ME LATER! POKING AROUND THIS FANCY PLACE, COME FIND ME -M sitting next to it. 

God bless Molly and hangover food. Angel wolfed it all down then hurried to the bathroom to wake himself up. He still felt a bit like garbage, but it couldn’t be helped. 

Once he’d splashed some water on his face, he felt able to brave the daylight. But when he checked out the window, he saw it was still pretty earlier. Molly always had been an early bird, unlike basically anyone else in the family. 

Angel shrugged a jacket on, one with plenty of inside holsters for more pistols. Not his weapon of choice, but anything he could fit in his six hands would do. He had to get Molly to a safe location, and then – and then go back to Val. 

The early morning was his window, and he couldn’t mess it up this time. Especially when neither Molly nor the other Hazbins knew Val had found the hotel yet. This was a ticking time bomb with one day left on the clock, and Angel was determined it was going to blow up in no one’s face except his. 

With that thought in mind, he snuck down the stairs to the lobby, praying Molly was the only one up. 

Luckily, it seemed like she was – he found her poking around one of the rooms, a look of fascination in her big eyes. 

Less luckily, she’d set her sights on a dusty old piano Nifty had recently cleaned off. She was lifting the lid, her fingers hovering over the keys, about to press down. 

Angel cleared his throat. 

Molly turned, huge swathes of hair flipping as she did so, and smiled at him. “Mornin’, Tony! How’s the head?”

He shrugged non-committally, grateful when she passed him a glass of water. “It’s mine, but you can share it.”

“Thanks, Molls.” He tried not to down the rest of it in one go, but Molly just pushed it away when he tried to hand it back. Angel gave in to his parched throat and gulped down the rest. “About last night – were you the one who was taking care o’ me?”

“Yeah. But the Princess came to check on you, too.”

“Huh. Thanks.”

“Serious, Tony?” She stuck out her tongue. “Ain’t we looked out for each other enough that you know you don’t gotta thank me for that?”

“Mm. Guess it’s been awhile.” The glass squeaked as he ran his finger against the edge of it. “Listen, we gotta-”

“Sing for me, first,” she said suddenly. She laughed at the look on his face, pulling on his arm with an exaggerated flutter of eyelashes. “C’mon, Tony! Don’t you remember how we used to do this all the time?”

And before he could tell her not to, she started to play the piano. “You and I used to entertain Pops’ guests all the time, remember?”

“Yeah, sure, back when he had that stupid idea that he could make you into a respectable lady.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, but it was more than that,” she said. “He really liked showing us off, didn’t he? Get the twins playing a nice little song when family and friends are around. Specially cause Niss’d never put up with being paraded around from the age of like, two.”

Angel rubbed his arm, uncomfortable. He did remember that. He remembered it as one of the few times when he was young enough that his Pops didn’t disapprove of him yet. In fact, it was probably the last time in his life he remembered being...innocent. Just happy and innocent, before things were complicated.

Molly kept playing, though, changing the tune into a little ditty he recognised. She looked over at him, pointedly emphasising the beats where the melody would come in. “Come on…” she teased. “Just one song. For me?”

Angel bit his lip. She had looked after him when he was drunk off his face, and if there was one ‘redeeming quality’ he always felt he had, it was repaying his debts to people. The hotel was an old, rickety thing, anyway – with any luck they wouldn’t wake anyone up, and if they did, he’d find some excuse to slip away and then it wouldn’t matter if she was here or not...the hotel would be safe so long as he wasn’t in it. 

So he humoured her, counting himself in and starting to sing. It was an old song, one they both used to wheel out a lot at parties; a soft piano piece that worked best when a night was winding down. Angel’s Italian was a little rusty, but it came back to him the more he sang, and his voice warmed up beautifully. He’d gotten used to singing crowd-pleasing stuff at whatever club Val favoured that week, so he hadn’t had an excuse to use his vibrato in a long time. 

And it was more than that...he hadn’t realised until now how much he’d missed music. He always got a thrill out of performing, in a different way he did from then getting into fights or porn. At its best, there was an electric connection between performers, or between him and his audience. He’d been so preoccupied with anxiety and fear about Val, and finding ways to distract himself while stuck in the hotel, that he hadn’t noticed how colourless life had become. 

No fights, little alcohol, no drugs, no music, no rush in his blood to remind him he was still alive, even while he was dead. 

It was good to feel he could still find traces of colour in this weird new life he’d been trying to form. 

Molly smiled at him, putting little touches and flourishes into her playing as she went, their duet a little rough and cheeky around the edges like always. She looked up at him as she played, harmonising softly, but then her eyes wandered and Angel saw she was looking at Charlie and Vaggie, who had come downstairs and were staring at the two of them like they didn’t know what to make of it. 

Molly reached over and squeezed his hand with one of hers, pleading with her eyes for him to not stop. And Angel didn’t – their voices rose and fell gently together, the sound winding down along with Molly’s gentle chords on the piano. Then she lifted her hands, she and Angel finishing perfectly together as the song echoed down the halls of the hotel. 

There was a pause, then Molly burst out giggling. Angel leant against the piano, ducking his head so he could try and hide it. 

He was smiling, too. 

And then Charlie started clapping, starry-eyed cheer in her eyes. Vaggie joined in, even whistling with her fingers in her mouth, and Molly jokingly hid behind her hair, playing at bashfulness. Angel looked up, about to try and brush the whole moment off, when suddenly Charlie’s smile faded.

The two twins looked around, saw she was looking at someone standing in the hall, their hat in their hand. 

Henroin. 

He cleared his throat, his expression sober. Angel could feel how much his father was avoiding looking at him. But right then, it was the most perfect opportunity Angel could have wished for. 

“Thought I might find you here,” Henroin said to Molly. 

“Aw, shucks!” Angel said, snapping his fingers. He patted his sister on the shoulder, tried to smile reassuringly. “Looks like Pops came to getcha. Let’s do this again sometime, OK, Molls?”

“What?” Vaggie said, disbelieving. “Won’t she be safer with us at the hotel?”

Angel winced, facing away enough from Vaggie for her not to notice. How the hell was he going to get out of this without having to fess up Val already knew he was at the hotel? Charlie was frowning, too, and he could see on her face that she was starting to put it together that something was off. Angel turned away.

Unfortunately, there was the same look in Molly’s eyes. “Tony,” she said. “I need you to be straight with me. What did you mean yesterday when you said-”

Suddenly there was a loud bang, followed by a strange popping noise. They all looked around at one another, confused. 

Then the lights went out, plunging them into the ever-present gloom of the hotel. Vaggie flipped a nearby switch, but they didn’t come back on. 

“Power’s out,” she said, a waver in her voice. Angel and Charlie locked eyes, the growing fear on his face reflected in her widening eyes. 

Angel spun around, pushing past Henroin and racing to the doors just in time to see dozens of red lights appearing outside the windows – the eyes of tons and tons of demons, all of them surrounding the hotel. 

He’d been so, so stupid. 

There was a day left before Val’s deadline. But what did that matter? The Overlord had never intended to wait that long. 

“Oh, shit,” he whispered, just before the doors burst open.


	9. The Seige of the Hotel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments so far! We're not far off the climax, so I hope you keep enjoying the story :D

Angel couldn’t help but flinch back - his hands automatically going to draw his weapons - when the doors burst open. The muscle he’d been expecting to see was there – Val’s enforcers, the ones who beat in the face of anyone they were told to – but the Studio staff were, too. They stood out in front, a mixture of sadness and anger on their faces.

Dia and Summer were the leaders of the back, both with a golf club in one hand and pistol in the other. “Joyride’s over, Angel,” Summer said sharply, cocking the gun and pointing it straight at his chest. “Come quietly and we can all get back to normal, OK, sugar?”

Dia started to say something, discomfort in her eyes when suddenly there was a deafening BANG and Summer gasped, dropping the gun to clasp her bleeding arm. 

Angel looked around to see Molly stood behind him, a smoking gun in her hand. She raised her other hand to Angel, gesturing for him to come toward her. “You threaten my brother again, ya get worse than that, sweetheart,” she warned. 

“No, Molly, stop-” Angel put himself between the two groups, standing firmly rooted to the spot even as Molly tried to drag him back. The hotel staff were all gathering, everyone there except Alastor and everyone with a weapon in hand – Vaggie with her spear, horns sprouting from Charlie’s head, even Husk had produced a bolt-action shotgun from somewhere. And Henroin looked over at Angel. 

“They here for you, Tony?” he asked, reaching into his jacket for his favoured six-shooter. He’d never been one to back down from a brawl if he thought it meant protecting family honour, even if that included Angel. 

Angel’s heart sank – he could see on everyone’s eyes a complete determination to fight. If he didn’t stop this now -

“Everyone shaddup and listen to me!” He started to walk straight towards Val’s heavies. “I have ta-”

Molly threw herself forwards, shoving Angel behind her and opening fire at the other demons gathered there; Dia shoved Summer out of the way and the rest roared with anger and started to shove their way into the hotel, only the narrow lobby stopping them all flooding in at once. Angel swore, forced to draw his gun and fire on the ones bearing down on his sister, doing his best not to injure any of his former colleagues if he could avoid it. 

One of the meathead heavies swept Molly to one side with a beefy arm, pinning her against the wall and he knocked the gun clean from Angel’s hand with his other arm, swinging again to clock him on the head.

Angel grabbed his fist in all his hands, stopping him dead. The muscle head saw the fury in Angel’s eyes, just as he watched Angel’s third set of arms appear right before Angel punched him in the gut with it. Angel dodged back, getting his gun off the floor and pulling Molly with him, getting her behind him as the hotel denizens rushed forward, deaf to his protests. 

Angel stared, disbelieving, as the hotel residents, his friends, went all-out against the Studio goons – Vaggie stabbing and slashing with her spear with full fury, sweet little Charlie showing a slasher smile as she tossed first one, then the other cute little goat helper at the crowd, where they grew in size (and teeth) and sunk their teeth into the nearest demons, while she herself attacked with a strength he never would have expected from that small frame. 

Nifty yelled, “I’ll get Alastor!” and raced off, snapping Angel out of frozen position. He turned to Henroin, who was busy trying to get a clear shot, and pushed Molly towards him. 

“Pops, listen ta me! Take Molly ‘n go to ground like I said! It ain’t safe here!”

“What?” Henroin yelled over the noise, annoyed. “Ya think I’m gonna jes’ run off after they attacked one of us?”

Molly attacked first, Angel wanted to yell, but he bit it back. He ignored Henroin and grabbed Molly by the arm, calling to the others, “C’mon! Let’s regroup behind the bar!”

Husk shot him a look but did as asked, all their energy focused behind knocking back the oncoming demons as they retreated to the main room, Angel pushing Molly towards the bar and shutting the doors as soon as everyone was through, looking around for something to barricade the doors with. 

Vaggie caught on to what he was doing and shoved her spear through the door handle to hold it shut, buying them precious seconds to push whatever chairs and tables they could manage as a barricade. With that done she took her spear back and they all rushed over to the bar, pushing it over so they could use it as cover.

“Looks like Valentino found out where you are,” Charlie said, gravely. Angel cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, yeh. About that...” 

Husk took him off guard by seizing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down to hide behind the bar. “What the hell’s the matter with you, spider?” he snapped. The others knelt down beside them, all eyes on Angel. “You were actin’ like you were going to go with them.”

The others chimed in with angry agreements, only Henroin watching and saying nothing. The door banged as the demons tried to tear down their barricades. Angel swore, rubbing his head.

“Look, I thought it might work out, but it ain’t gonna,” he said, stopped. He wanted to tell them about the note, Val’s ultimatum, all of it.

But he just couldn’t. 

“Val...Val’s gonna rip this place to shreds,” he said. “And I ain’t gonna stand here and-”

“Where is he, then?” Henroin suddenly interrupted.

They all looked over at him, taken off-guard. “Uh, what?” Angel said stupidly as the doors banged again. 

“Valentino. I don’t see him anywhere.” He reloaded the shotgun, adding almost casually, “And I’d know that bastard anywhere. His cigars stink something awful.”

“Uh…well…” Angel couldn’t find an answer to that. With Val having delivered the note himself, he’d just assumed the Overlord would be here.

But Henroin was right – if the Overlord had been here, they’d have had much more of a fight on their hands. 

“Come on, Tony,” Henroin said, sounding annoyed. “You remember how these things go. Looks t’me like this here’s just the first wave.”

“And if that’s all it is, we can fight them off, easy!” Molly added. 

Angel hesitated. He’d already had to hurt some of his former co-workers, he didn’t relish the thought of doing worse. But the way all the Hazbins were looking at him now.

Husk grabbed his shoulder, forceful enough that he accidentally pricked Angel with his claws. “Listen up, Angel. You try’n go with them, I’ll knock ya to the floor an’ beat some sense into you. Got it?”

Angel nodded, mute. Husk quickly let go, snatching a bottle off the floor and taking a big gulp. “But goddamn,” he muttered. “Where the hell’s Alastor gotten off to?”

The doors banged again, splintering. 

“Ready,” Charlie said, “Everyone watch someone’s back!”

“I’m with you, hun,” Vaggie said immediately, the weird goat-creatures nodding and sticking close to her side.

“Pops, look out for Molly,” Angel said, taking a pistol in each hand. Molly was doing the same with a wicked grin. 

“He’s gonna need to look out for himself,” she said. Henroin grunted, didn’t argue. 

“I’m with you then, spider,” Husk said, actually holding Angel’s gaze when he let a small smile slip. 

The doors burst open. 

The Hazbins leapt over the bar, weapons raised. The Studio heavies were prepared for them that time, their own guns blazing. They all worked in separate directions – Molly and Henroin kicking over a table for cover, Charlie consuming the bullets in a blaze of demonic fire, Husk shoving Angel to the side with a massive push from his powerful wings, all of them returning fire in the next second. 

The room was consumed by the intense firefight, the walls and floor getting totally chewed up with bullets as some of the Studio heavies dropped, replaced with more and more lackies of Val’s. Some of them would try to get near Angel and grab at him, but the rest of the Hazbins anticipated it straight away and knocked them back with a viciousness that surprised him. 

Angel went all-out, reluctance put to one side now that his family were fighting alongside him. And it was working well, he and Husk fighting back to back as if they’d been doing it all their lives, until suddenly another wave of heavies struck, leaving Dia and Summer and opening to get between him and Husk. 

Dia looked between them, obviously unhappy even though she was now badly hurt and went after Husk, leaving Summer to dive at Angel, firearms forgotten in favour of bare knuckle knife fighting and a violent fury he had never seen from her before. 

“Come on, Angel cakes,” she taunted, slashing at his arm when he struggled to get back enough to open fire on her. “Just come back to the Studio already and be Val’s moll again! What else’re you good for?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” he snapped, swinging his Tommy gun like a club to get her to back off. But she didn’t, seizing hold of the end and hissing like a feral animal. “You just stood and watched every time Val tried it on wit’ me! Every time I-”

She howled at the top of her lungs and threw herself at him, so much force in the movement that she knocked him clean onto the floor. Angel hit the ground, hard, sliding back from the impact before she was on him, trying to stab the knife at his chest, at his face, anywhere she could get it and all of Angel’s street smarts went out the window, all six of his hands grabbing at her and trying to throw her off. 

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” she yelled, hair flying in his face, too beside herself to see he was successfully holding her off. “DON’T YOU GET IT? Val ALWAYS gets what he wants and you should GIVE IT TO HIM so the rest of us DON’T HAVE TO!”

“Go to Hell!”

She recovered her senses then, dropping the knife and taking him off guard by leaning in close. “Val wanted me to tell you himself – last chance before he burns it down,” she hissed. “Go back tomorrow or he’ll raise this place down to the ground personally and drag you through the streets back home.”

Angel’s blood ran cold. With a spurt of adrenaline, he threw her off him so hard she slid back against the floor, cold victory in her eyes. 

“And he’ll get his buddies, Vox and Velvet to help!” she added, her voice carrying over the din. 

Angel started to say, “No-”, to demand she tell him it wasn’t true, when suddenly a black shadowy arm crashed through the door and threw her back into the wall, knocking down several of Val’s goons in one go. 

There was a shocked pause before everyone collectively looked over at the doorway, where Nifty and a shadowy figure were standing. 

Alastor took a step inside the torn up room, surveying the carnage with a pleased look on his face, the Cheshire grin morphing into an all-out serial killer smile in two seconds flat. 

“Well, my dear,” he said, addressing Summer, “What was that you said about Vox?”

“I...I just…”

“Because if he were to set foot in this fine establishment,” he continued, the radio static falling from his voice as the black aura around him increased, “I couldn’t be held responsible for what happened next.”

She shrank back but the shadowy arms swept up, shoving the lot of them out into the hallway in one fell swoop, more arms growing from them and smashing and seizing up any stragglers. 

In a matter of seconds, they were chased from the building. The air of doom around Alastor faded and he looked over at the others, smiling. 

“Well, that was a ruckus! How are we all?”

No one responded. They were all bearing cuts and bruises, Angel slashed in one arm, Husk bleeding badly from the leg and a severe bite wound to his ear. Vaggie was bleeding from her head, chunks torn out of her long hair. Even Charlie, horns and all, was worse for wear: her tux was torn at the edges. 

And Molly was cradling one of her arms, a bullet wound bleeding from its base. Henroin supported her, looking hard at Angel. “Quite a brawl, Tony,” he said. “You sure never made as much of a mess when you were alive.”

Angel’s legs trembled. He found a nearby chair and pulled it upright, his arms trembling. 

“Is...is everyone…?”

They didn’t answer him. Vaggie brushed back her hair from her eyes, grabbing Charlie in a hug. The Princess patted her on the back, whispering, “It’s OK. It’s OK.”

Molly was saying the same thing – “I’m OK, Pops,” but he was busy herding her to the door, stopping only once to look back at Angel with a strange look in his eye. 

“Keep – keep her safe,” Angel called after him, his voice nowhere near as strong as he would have liked. 

There was a long silence before Husk rounded on Alastor. “Hell took you so long?” he snapped. 

“Not much, Husker!” He looked brightly around the room. “Was that all? Are they gone?”

“Yeah,” Angel said. Summer’s words rang through his head: he’ll raise this place down to the ground. By the looks on the other’s faces, they hadn’t heard.

No one knew but him. 

“Yeah,” Angel said. And they ain’t gonna be back here again, he thought to himself. 

Not if he could help it.


	10. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for all the comments so far! I was a bit busy so this one took longer to do. Hope you enjoy!

Angel was totally normal for every moment that followed. 

He was genial when Charlie tried to reassure him about Molly getting hurt. He was calm as they cleaned up the mess of the front room as best they could and talked about how to fortify the hotel. He was laughing and complimenting the other Hazbins for how wild they’d gotten in the fight and why had they been holding out on him this entire time?

He’s going to burn down the hotel...

He was smiling as he picked glass up off the floor with shaking hands. 

“...and then we’ll have the Radio Demon’s shadows keep the building on lockdown,” Vaggie was saying. “Does that sound good for an immediate plan to everyone?”

He’s going to burn down the hotel. He’s going to burn down the hotel. 

“Angel?”

Angel was snapped out of staring into the distance when he noticed them all staring at him, Husk glaring the hardest. “Sure, toots,” he said, with a wonky smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

Husk’s frown deepened, but he rounded suddenly on Alastor. “Hey, you! I thought you had an eye on this place already? Why didn’t you see it coming?”

“Husker, my dear friend,” he said, tilting his head to one side as his eyes went blank. “I did see it coming.”

Husk’s jaw dropped and a growl built in his throat, but Alastor’s smile never wavered. “The fuck? Why didn’t you warn the rest of us?!”

Radio static noise began to build around him and Alastor’s eyes started to go blank. “Because if you had been paying attention...you would have seen it coming, too.” His aura became darker, a murderous air around him but amazingly Husk didn’t shrink away. He squared up to Alastor, glaring hard at him. 

“What kinda game are you playing?”

Angel watched the two, the bad feeling in his stomach growing. “Knock it off, Husk,” he said, using his multiple arms to push the two apart. “Don’t…” Don’t blame him, he wanted to say, but just couldn’t get the words out. 

Husk let Angel push him back from Alastor, but the irritated look on his face didn’t fade. “Whatever scheme you got in mind, you better have our best interests at heart.” He frowned deeply, looking down at Nifty who was hiding behind Alastor’s leg. “Otherwise you ‘n me’ll be having problems.”

The dark aura didn’t return around Alastor like Angel had been expecting. Instead he smiled even more broadly, almost pleasantly, in Husk’s direction. Charlie watched the whole exchange, concern clear in her eyes.

“Look, everyone,” she said. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t we all go get some rest and tackle this in the morning? We’ve cleaned up as best we can.”

“Not really,” Nifty muttered critically. 

“And if Alastor is sure the hotel is secure, we’d be better off licking our wounds for a bit. Right?” she said. Vaggie smiled supportively, rubbing her shoulder. 

“Yeah!” Angel said, surprising everyone. His own voice sounded odd to his ears, like he was somewhere very far away with nothing but the white noise of he’s going to burn down the hotel in his head. But he plastered a big grin on his face anyway. “The Princess is right! I don’t know about the rest of youse, but I need my beauty sleep after that.”

He made it to the stairs before Husk called out, “Angel!”

He turned, smile freezing in place. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Meet down here first thing tomorrow,” he said, pointing at the bar. “You got it?”

Angel couldn’t bring himself to answer. Instead he just blew Husk a kiss and retreated to his room. 

Once inside, he flipped the lock and sank down to the floor, all three sets of arms cradling his legs to his chest. He rested his head against them, groaning. 

He’s going to burn down the hotel.

This was it, he knew. Do or die time. Options on the table: own up to what he heard, Val’s note, everything, and fight with his friends.

Option two: crawl back to Val on his hands and knees. 

He thought of Molly, Arackniss, even Henroin. He might not get on with all of them, but he sure as Hell didn’t want them getting hurt by this. Maybe he’d been too quick to want Molly out of the hotel. If he was drawing the line of fire with him, she’d have been safer near Charlie and Alastor. 

He thought of the fight. How his father had practically jumped at the opportunity for a firefight, how his simplistic code of answer violence with violence at least meant he was determined to defend himself when Angel had wanted to give up. 

It came to him then, a crazy desperate idea that felt somehow right. 

Option three: take on Valentino, one last time. Winner take all. 

Angel pushed himself off the floor, standing tall. His arms dropped to his sides as he considered his room, weighed his options. 

He had weapons, but he was going to need to get more.

He had skills, but he was going to need to give the performance of his life. 

And now, finally, he had a plan. A plan that put an end to the butterflies in his stomach and the constant worrying. 

He was going to turn the tables. 

Angel got down to work. 

First, he gave the sleeping Fat Nuggets a hug and made sure he was cosied up in as many blankets as a pig could need. 

Next he crossed over to his dresser. A disguise was going to be necessary, but he needed to get out of the hotel first. 

He looked around for a bag, something he could fit a lot of stuff in and dump at a moment’s notice. He found a scarcely used gym bag that would do the trick and started to pack his battle kit. 

A dress, worn and plain and not at all like what he’d normally wear. Some jewellery that fit the same criteria. 

And then makeup. Concealer, blusher, lipstick. All would help him achieve the look he had in mind if he was going to pull this off. 

There was one more item he needed, but that was the next part of the plan. He put a coat and hat on to conceal his usual outfit and hefted the bag over his shoulder, stopping to take one last look at his room. 

A warm, almost sad feeling came over him. He’d really gotten attached to his little home away from home, up until Val had invaded and poisoned it like everything else. 

He leant down to give Fat Nuggets a kiss on the and walked into the ensuite, daubing a message on the mirror in lipstick: SO LONG, TOOTS, AND THANKS FOR EVERYTHING -A <3

That done, he checked for noise at the door before quietly slipping out into the hallway and sneaking downstairs to the bar. 

He didn’t like to have to do this twice, but for the next part of the plan he needed some way of making money. 

And what better object to sell than the expensive, now totally unprotected bottles of wine at the wreck of the bar?

Angel rustled around in the stack Nifty had sorted, checking the years on each bottle. He was no expert outside of knowing older equalled more expensive, so he grabbed the oldest thing he could lay hands on and laid it carefully inside the bag, zipping it up again when he was done. 

All that finished with, he set the bag on his shoulder again and debated leaving Husk a personal goodbye note on a napkin or something. 

But, nah. He knew full well Husk didn’t care about him. Husk would probably be glad to see the back of him, especially given the way he totally went off on Alastor earlier. 

He turned to go, about to head to the doors when someone walked into the room. 

“I was hopin’ I wouldn’t see you down here, spider.” 

Husk leant against the doorway, blocking the exit. 

Angel gripped the bag hard, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. “Look, it ain’t what it looks-”

“I can handle you nickin’ from me, again.” Husk opened his wings, walking a slow predatory pace towards Angel. He looked Angel up and down, lingering on the bag over his shoulder. He stopped just outside of arm’s reach, wings totally obstructing Angel’s view of the door. 

“But you ain’t leavin’ here til you get through me.”


	11. The Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah, so I was a little off about that initial chapter count being around 11. Hope no one minds this’ll run a bit longer. I hadn’t originally planned to have this scene in, but it made sense to me to follow up on some of the conflict from the previous chapters.

For a second, neither of them moved. Angel recovered first, putting on his most winning smile. “Listen, Husky, there’s somewhere I gotta go. I’ll come right back when I’m done, promise.” And he crossed his heart over his chest.

Husk folded his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah? Where?”

“To check up on Molls, of course! You think I’d trust my Pops to know how to take care of her?”

“All right. Then I’m goin’ with you.”

Angel bit his lip, struggling to hold Husk’s gaze. Any second now he was sure one of the other Hazbins would walk in and then it would become impossible to leave. “Fraid I can’t let you do that, Husky. This – this is family business, y’know?”

“I wouldn’t cramp your style, spider. I can wait outside while you talk to sis. No big.” And he shrugged, like it was just a normal, casual conversation they were having. 

Angel ground his teeth. There was no way to say ‘no, you can’t’ without looking like he was obviously lying. 

“No, you can’t,” he said. 

Husk raised an eyebrow, his fangs starting to poke out of his mouth as he growled. Angel’s fists clenched. Husk looked seconds away from a full transformation. If they started a fight right here, Angel might be able to win but he’d be done for the minute anyone else heard and got involved.

“You’re gonna run back to Val, aren’t ya?” he snarled. “What the hell are you thinking?”

Angel set his bag down on the bar. No matter what, he could not let the bottle within get broken. “Maybe I am. But so what? We both know your mate Smiles ain’t gonna lift a finger to help us when it comes down to it.” When Husk didn’t deny it, Angel pressed on, an angry heat building in his chest. “And besides, whadda you care, Husker?” he hissed, still trying to keep his voice down. “You don’t like me. You ain’t never liked me. I see the way you fidget whenever I smile at ya or act nice around ya.”

Husk’s transformation was momentarily stalled as his jaw dropped. “Act nice? All you do is flirt with me!”

“Yeah, and ya ain’t interested, and ya hate my guts. I got the memo, so get outta my way!”

“You infuriating…” Husk raked his claw down over his face, pulling at his fur. “Are you really that stupid?”

“You-” Angel bit back his words, refusing to rise to the bait, refusing to hear them. And across from him Husk was visibly getting angrier and angrier and Angel knew if he didn’t contain this in the next few seconds, his plan was as good as wrecked. 

So he flinched back, letting all the fear show on his face and then some, collapsing to the floor and begging, “Don’t, Husk, please don’t, I don’t wanna do this with ya-” and carrying on in a stream of unintelligible begging. 

Far from his proudest moment, but it had the intended purpose – the deadly aura filling the room evaporated, Husk kneeling down next to Angel and very awkwardly patting him on the shoulder. 

“Look, spider, you don’t gotta – come on, Angel, stop that now and just talk to me-”

Angel looked up, big eyes filled with tears that weren’t entirely fake at this point and threw his arms around Husk, all six wrapping around the cat demon and clinging on tight. 

Husk was a lot softer than he’d been expecting – his fur always had kind of a coarse look about it, probably from his hard drinking and tough guy attitude meaning he didn’t invest heavily in his appearance like Angel did. But he was soft to the touch, and warm. It was almost...comforting. 

Which was the last reaction Angel expected to have in a situation like this. 

Husk’s arms were hovering awkwardly around Angel’s back, not touching him. “Look, Angel – it’s really – you just – you gotta...”

Angel let himself enjoy the hug and listen to Husk scrambling to find words for a second or two longer before turning his head so he could whisper close to the demon’s ear, “Let’s you and me get a drink when this is all over, OK, Husky?”

And he turned and sunk his fangs straight into Husk’s neck. 

The bartender yelled, crying out in surprise and trying to shove Angel off of him, but it was too late: Angel had pierced the skin and delivered his venom, his fangs ripped from Husk’s flesh just as he tasted blood. 

Immediately Husk’s hand went to his neck and he opened his jaws wide to scream bloody murder but Angel clamped a hand over his mouth, his arms winding around Husk to help him sit down as he wobbled on unsteady legs.

“You’re gonna feel a bit woozy for a bit, but don’t be alarmed,” Angel told him, encouraging the cat to sit down on the floor. “Disoriented and that. It can be pleasant – I mean, if you’re into that sort thing.” And some of his clients were, he remembered, licking Husk’s blood off his teeth and letting his fangs retract. He’d stupidly expected Husk’s blood to taste like 100% proof, like a pure shot of vodka between his teeth. 

It didn’t. It tasted bitter. 

Angel let go, stepping back when the cat tried one last futile attempts to grab at his legs. 

“Don’t be...fuckin’ stupid…” Husk said, already slurring his words. 

And there was a look on his face Angel had never expected to see: betrayal. Actual genuine hurt. 

Angel had tricked him, stolen from him, been rejected by him time after time, and Husk still didn’t want him to go. Angel couldn’t help it, he leant forward and took Husk’s head in his hands, planting a kiss on top of his head and murmuring a deeply affectionate word of thanks. 

In Italian, so Husk wouldn’t ever know what he’d said. 

And then Husk shoved him away, yowled a cat-like yowl at the top of his lungs. Angel froze, looking up to the ceiling and already he could hear a disturbance up above. Someone had heard.

Seizing up the gym bag, Angel sprinted flat-out for the door, something dark and shadowy whizzing right by his head and he made it to the door and outside. 

If they set Al on him he’d never outrun him so he instead rushed for the limo parked out front, slamming the hood open and hotwiring the thing in ten seconds flat.

Pops would’ve been proud. 

Angel smashed the driver’s side window in with the butt of one of his pistols and yanked the door open, getting into the driver’s seat and putting the bag down next to him just as he heard voices form within the hotel. He’d just gotten the engine all revved up and made a screeching U-turn in the street when the hotel doors burst open and Charlie made it to the kerb just in time for their eyes to lock before the car went screeching past, Angel skidding magnificently around the corner as he struggled to compensate for the longer length of the vehicle, the goddamn automatic drive and the grinding of the gears as he pushed the limo as fast as it would go. 

But he didn’t stop, he didn’t slow down. 

The hotel got smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror until at last, it vanished on the horizon.

“Third time’s the charm,” he muttered to himself, a grim sense of victory coming over him that the plan was finally in motion. 

He was on his way.


	12. The Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Getting near to the climax now! I hope everyone will see out the end with me & thanks for all the comments so far.

Angel ditched the limo down an alley, hoping no one would notice it with the window busted up like it was. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, though, and not much sense worrying about it, he thought. Just another thing to add to the pile of lousy things he’d had to do to get here…

He couldn’t begin to imagine how Charlie would take it once she realised what was going on. She was too much like Molly for her own good: far too sweet, far too naive. 

Angel shook the thought off, hurrying down the street until he found an empty public bathroom. In the cubicle he opened the up the bag, putting the toilet lid down so he could awkwardly sit down while he changed. First came the wig: long luxurious hair with a pink tint, not unlike his own. Angel made sure it was sitting securely, combing it out to make sure it looked natural. 

Next, the clothes. He took off the coat he had been wearing and ditched his usual tux for just a shirt and shorts. Over that he put on a dress, not too fancy but a light one that would be easy to move in, just in case he ran into trouble. He left his high boots on, but cut off the heels. It would disguise the height he usually had and make it easier to run if he needed to. 

Disguise complete, Angel left the cubicle and moved over to the mirror. A contact lens in his eye to disguise his heterochromatic pupil. Makeup next. A layer of foundation went over his face and he made especially sure to cover up his extra eyes. He’d done it once or twice before, for clients who wanted to pay for the best without being reminded that Angel was a spider demon. The nostalgia struck him in a funny way. He almost started to laugh. 

He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t funny. 

All that was left was the voice. Angel cleared his throat, focusing on pitching up his voice and using his accent to sound softer. “Excuse me?” he said. Still too low. It had been awhile since he’d done a drag show, after all. He shut his eyes, focusing on assuming his disguise better, wearing it like he wore the dress he was in. Timid. Desperate. “Excuse me?” he said. 

It sounded disturbingly like Molly. 

Angel looked himself in the mirror. A young woman with long hair and doe-like pink eyes stared back. He picked up the makeup brush one more time, daubing in the tell-tale sign of a bruise just under his left eye. “OK,” the voice said softly. “Showtime.”

He ditched the old clothes in the trash, taking only the gym bag with the bottle of wine – and the rest of his arsenal of weapons - in it out the door. 

Angel had ditched the limo a little ways away from his true destination: the black markets. 

A few demons looked his way, giving him the eye, but Angel pulled his arms in, tried his best to look shy and unassuming. It was difficult when he spent every other day smirking and scowling his way through the godforsaken Hell-hole he’d been forced to call home.

Finally he saw what he’d been hoping to see: a sign with two symbols on it – an exterminator next to a spear. It was attached to a house down a side alley, the door left open enticingly. 

Angel hurried towards it, looking down the door to see it opened into a little foyer, another sign pointing down some stairs. He took a deep breath, grit his teeth and headed down them, calling out, “Hello? Anyone here?” in his pale female voice. 

“C’mon if you’re coming!” a grouchy woman called up the stairs. Angel steeled himself, increasing his pace down the stairs. A heavy door was at the bottom, also just open a crack. His eye twitched. Whoever this was, they sure had a penchant for being overly mysterious. 

Don’t break character, he reminded himself, peering cautiously around the door. “Um...hi. I saw your sign at the door…?”

A crab-like demon with a face full of eyes stared hard at him from her place at a rickety old table. And behind her, glorious glorious paydirt: a mounted rack full of Angel’s spears, wicked sharp and shining even in the dim light. “Are – are those...?”

“Yes. Angelic weapons.” She folded clawed hands on the table, turning up her judgemental glare and gesturing to the seat opposite her. “Hope you ain’t gonna waste my time, honey.”

“No, ma’am.” He sat down in front of her, reaching into his gym bag and pulling out the bottle of wine, dumping it on the table before her. “I’ll give you this – super old, super valuable – in exchange for one of those.”

He pointed up at the spears on the wall. 

The demon raised her eyebrow. “Is that all?” She pointed up at the wall. “You know how rare these things are? They’re up for grabs once a year and maybe not even then, since everyone fights over them.”

“Yeah, but…” Angel fidgeted, putting on his biggest puppy-dog eyes and looking up from under his fringe. He gestured to the makeup bruises, trying to will his eyes to fill with tears. “I just can’t go back without one of those spears. He’s going to hurt me, badly. I have to finish him first, y’know?”

The crab demon was examining the bottle of wine, looking more and more unimpressed. “Mhmm. Who’s that?”

“My-my boss,” Angel said, gesturing to his eye and looking as weepy as possible. “This? See this? He did this to me.”

The crab demon didn’t look as sympathetic as he had hoped with the ‘bruised wife’ act. “And that’s it? This is Hell,” she said. “What makes you so special that you can come in here demanding a spear for as little as a slap across the face?”

“It was more than any-” Angel stopped, struggling to keep his voice disguised. “He didn’t just hit me today. It’s been years I’ve been putting up with him and his bullshit.”

“Let me guess. Made out he loved you at first?”

“Not exactly…” Angel brushed a hand through the long hair. “He accepted me more than my blood relatives did, gave me a career, fun parties, drugs, drink...everything.”

“Uh huh.”

“But he was just using me to make money,” Angel said. “Whenever I succeeded at something, he cut me down. No matter how much I made for him, how big my reputation was or how hard I pushed myself, it was just never good enough,” he said. 

The crab looked up and Angel realised too late that his voice had slipped. 

“Yeah?” she said, her tone changing for the first time. “And what else?”

“I...tried to leave so many times,” he said, in his own voice. “I kept thinking it’d get better. Sometimes he’d shower me with attention or gifts or whatever. But he was always playing me – making the others hate me so I’d depend on him, makin’ me think I was nothing without him…”

He raised his hand, wiped off the bruise makeup. And then the makeup hiding his other eyes. The crab’s many eyes widened. “He didn’t give me a bruise recently,” Angel admitted, looking down at his hands. “One time I tried to leave him, it wasn’t nothin’ big, just a stupid fight and I felt like I couldn’t take it no more. I walked off out of the Studio, an’ he pulled a gun on me. He fired and the bullet bounced off a car, took me right here.” He gestured to the side of his head, the bone above his eye where a mark had long since healed. “He made such a fuss and I thought he cared. But he just worried about my face gettin’ marked up. An’ the funny thing is, I still don’t know if he was aiming at me or firing a warning shot, all these years later...”

He looked up, taking out his contact lens. “He is gonna kill all my friends if I don’t go back.” He slipped off the wig, brushing out his own hair. “Please. I can’t bear to go back to him. Not even if it means I have to kill him for good to be free.”

The crab demon leant back in her chair. She ran a claw down the side of the wine bottle, thoughtful. “You’re Angel Dust, right? Nobody had the nerve to leave Valentino before.”

Hearing her say it like that, he felt momentarily proud, even as his surroundings were a constant reminder of how crazy things had gotten. “Yeah...that’s me.”

“You really gonna take an Overlord on?”

“Yeah.” He puffed out his chest, the crazy words giving him strength. “I am.”

She considered, then picked up the bottle, using her claw to pop the cork off. “It ain’t such a bad vintage, all things considered.”

Angel brightened. “You mean-?”

“You can have one of the spears. Anybody asks, you didn’t get it from me.” She took a deep, deep swig from the bottle, laughed suddenly. “The underworld’s buzzing bout you, you know? It’s been a long time since there’s been an upset like this – nothing since the Radio Demon arrived, probably. People’ve been takin’ bets how this whole thing’ll shake out between the two of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Gotta be honest, most people didn’t think you had it in you to oppose him. They don’t think you’re gonna win.”

Angel puffed up, usual smirk back in place. “Yeah? What about you? You bettin’ on me?”

“No.” She laughed when he glared at her and smiled toothily. “But I want you to prove me wrong.” And she set to drinking herself stupid, gesturing at the wall. “Any one of those is yours.”

“Thanks, sweets.” He stood, shrugging out of the dress and leaving himself in his shirt and shorts. The spear was heavier than he expected, but it still hide nicely on the inside of his boot. Val had been right about something, at least – his boots were the perfect place to hide a weapon. 

“So, what next?” the crab demon asked, already slurring her words a little. “You jus’ gonna walk into the Studio and throw that thing at an Overlord?”

“Mm, naw,” Angel said, smiling for half a second at the image. It made what he was about to do a tiny bit less terrifying. He pulled out his burner phone and put in Val’s number from memory. He still had the damn digits off by heart. “First... I got one last show to give.”


	13. The Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Getting close to the end now! Next time round it’ll be two chapters instead of one, since after this is the last of the flashbacks, and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting on the present storyline (but the flashback’ll probably be on the short side, anyhow).

Charlie watched the limo screech around the corner, her eyes connecting with Angel’s for one suspended second before both he and the vehicle were gone. She felt a tremble in her legs and longed to collapse to her knees on the pavement. Instead she doubled up, breathing hard.

“Oh, shit,” she said. Then, because it didn’t seem to reflect the situation, she said it again. “Oh, shit.”

It was only a second of her feeling alone and hopeless on the side of the road until suddenly the noise of the whole hotel surrounded her, all of them saying things she couldn’t make out. All she was really aware of in the next seconds were Vaggie’s arms around her shoulders, steering her back inside. 

Husk was at the bar, cradling his head with a woozy look on his face. “Didja stop ‘im?” he slurred, his face falling when he saw Angel wasn’t with them. “Where’d he go?”

“He took the limo,” Charlie said, grimly. “We have no wheels and no way of knowing where he’s gone.”

“Hun, keep calm. We – we’ll figure this out,” Vaggie said, her expression fighting between fury and concern. “The hell is he thinking? We beat the first wave. We beat them together.” 

“Didn’t ya see?” Husk said, slamming his fist on the bar. “He got all weird when ‘is family showed up. He was gonna ditch to go runnin’ back to that moth bastard from the get-go.”

“What?” Charlie said, rounding on him. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Husk looked down. “Thought I could...head ‘im off. Thought he’d...lissen ta me. Got myself bloody poisoned instead.”

Charlie took a deep breath in, restrained herself. “OK. If you’re right that he’s going back to – about where he’s going, we don’t have time to argue. We need to get there first.”

“How? We don’t have wheels,” Vaggie said. 

“Then – then – we call a taxi,” Charlie said.

“In Hell?” Husk grumbled. “You won’t be getting anywhere in a hurry if you do that.”

Charlie’s heart sank. The thought of Angel, her first patron, walking up to the Studio with his cheeky smirk replaced by a grim resignation as he approached Val to hand himself over, turned her blood to ice. “But we can’t just...”

“How terrible!” A burst of static from the stairs made everyone jump and they turned to see Alastor standing there, staff in hand. “Why is everyone out of bed at this hour?”

Husk just groaned but Charlie sprang forward, seizing Alastor by the arms. “Alastor!” she said, letting ago when she noticed his discomfort from being touched. “Angel’s gone!”

He blinked, his smile broadening as his eyes narrowed. “Yes, my dear,” he said. “I know.”

“You...know?”

He raised his staff, the dark aura swirling all around him once again as shadows lifted off his shoulders and reached their hands out to Charlie with big, friendly smiles. “Why, yes. I did tell you that I had the hotel under guard, did I not? My shadows know everyone that comes and everyone that goes.” 

“What?” Vaggie yelled. “Why the HELL didn’t you mention that earlier? It sure would have been nice to know when the hotel was surrounded, or when Angel was trying to run off ahead of time!”

Alastor chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, spinning his staff in his fingers. “My dear, if either of those events were surprising to you...you haven’t been paying attention.” 

Charlie backed away, drawing her arms in against her body. “But, Alastor...I thought you wanted the hotel succeed. Why…?”

Alastor’s smile wavered for a fraction of a second and he looked almost disappointed in her. “You do all know why I am here, don’t you? For entertainment. Simply shutting down the play before it unfolds hardly makes for good spectator sport.”

Vaggie’s spear was at his throat, her teeth gritted as she jabbed it towards him threateningly. “Is this fun for you? You think you can play with us all like we’re mice? I think it’s about time you-”

“Told you where Angel is?” he said. They all froze, the only sound Alastor’s radio static giving him a standing ovation. 

“You know where-” Husk tried to stand, wobbled. “You know where he is?”

“But of course! My shadows have been tailing him for weeks now!”

Charlie nearly grabbed him again, managing to stop herself at the last second. “Where? Where is he, where’s he going?”

He tapped the head of his staff against the palm of his hand, assuming an almost innocent expression as he said, “The last they told me, our effeminate fellow was in the black markets. He’s moved since then.” He clicked his finger and turned back suddenly, yelling, “Nifty, dear! I have a job for you!”so suddenly everyone else was momentarily startled. Charlie recovered first.

“The black markets?” she said. Then she shook her head, shrugged. “Well, whatever. We have a location, we’ll just have to go on foot and have you update us if we can’t get a vehicle to get there faster.”

Just then Nifty rushed up to Alastor, grinning. He smiled down at her. “I have need of your services, dear. Road trip time.”

“Like she’s going be much use,” Husk muttered.

“And we still don’t have a car,” Vaggie said, trying on her mobile to find a taxi service that looked like they’d be half reliable and failing.

“Let’s just steal one,” Husk grumbled, struggling to stand as he supported himself against the bar. “Ain’t no way I can follow you without slowing you down.”

Alastor coughed, pointed at Husk’s wings. The cat looked behind him, sheepish. 

“...Right. Good point. Then let’s just go.”

Vaggie folded her arms, glaring hard at Alastor as they all hurried down the hallway, Husk using his wings to hover behind them. “I still don’t see why I should trust you,” she grumbled. “Why wouldn’t you just say if you knew Angel was going to pull a runner?”

“Because,” he said, smiling a catlike smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes, “I wanted to see if he’d break his pattern.”

“Pattern?” Charlie asked, opening the hotel doors. “What pattern?”

The look of amusement returned. “Why, my dear, I thought you were the management of this programme! Didn’t you notice?”

Charlie deflated under the focus of his bright smile, earning annoyed looks from the other Hazbins in Alastor’s direction. 

“Get to the point,” Vaggie practically growled. 

“Naturally!” Alastor chirped. They headed out onto the street, Charlie pausing just outside to text her goat minions to stand guard as best they could while they were gone. “Since I wanted to avail myself as best I could to you, I took it upon myself to observe all of the quirks and foibles of my fellow residents! And I noticed from way back when you were having problems with Angel Dust before that he’s rather in the habit of keeping any serious problems to himself, especially where his work was concerned.” 

“So what?” Husk grumbled. “He left the Studio weeks ago.”

“He left the Studio, but not the habit.” He reached into his pocket, fishing out a note and handing it over to Charlie. She went pale as she read the threatening message:

ANGIE BABY,

TWO DAYS LEFT. 

DON’T KEEP ME WAITING.

\- V

Alastor grinned as she looked up, horrified. “You see, my dear, once my shadows made me aware of this little issue, I placed a little wager with myself. If Angel told all of you about this, he would have changed quite measurably. If not, he would still be stuck in the same bad habits as he was in life. In fact, I’d be willing to bet it was a habit that got him in some trouble when he was living!”

Charlie’s hand trembled as she held the note. The sudden, hot urge to slap Alastor rose up in her, but she restrained herself, knowing that he was their one hope of getting to Angel in time. That Vaggie hadn’t tackled him to the ground yelling at his heartlessness told her that her girlfriend had realised the same thing. 

“But – but what makes you say that?” she said, weakly. 

“Because that’s exactly what happened the first time,” a soft, Brooklyn voice said.

They all looked up at the pair of spider demons standing outside a rusty old station wagon parked by the side of the road, its engine still running. Molly and Henroin stared back at them, a sad look on Molly’s face. 

There was exactly one second’s pause before the whole group leapt towards the car, all of them talking at once.


	14. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: One of two updates today! This’ll be a short one, but I really wanted to write this scene.

A couple of cents. Besides the bag of PCP, all Tony had was a couple of cents. He picked up the handle of the payphone, wrinkling his nose at the smell inside the phone booth. 

Didn’t matter. This wasn’t going to take long, anyway.

He dropped his coins in and struggled to punch in the home phone number, praying that his Pops wouldn’t be the one to pick up. 

“Hello?” 

Next best thing. It was Niss. He sounded grouchy, too – just like usual. 

“Heya, Niss, it’s Tony,” he said, trying not to slur his words too badly. 

Niss just sighed at him. “You been drinking again, Anthony?”

He frowned. Niss sounded like his Pops when he called him by his full name. He didn’t like it. “Jus’ a little. So what?”

“Look, Pops ain’t gonna let you come back home just ‘cause you went out and got drunk.” Niss sighed, his voice full of judgement. That wore on Tony’s nerves even worse.

“I ain’t gonna ask him that!” he snapped, struggling to read the counter to see how much money he had left. “Would you jus’ put Molls on, Nissy?”

“Don’t call me that,” Niss snapped. “And don’t drag Molly into your shit!”

“I said-” Tony slammed at the phone, making the machine jump. “I jus’ wanna talk to ‘er. OK? She’s my twin...my twin...my sis. Wouldja put ‘er on, already?”

Niss sighed again. It sounded sadder this time. Tony softened a little, thinking that no doubt Niss had been forced to put up with Pops’ bad moods now that he didn’t have Tony to direct them at instead. “All right. OK. Just...maybe next time don’t do anythin’ to get yourself thrown out, OK? We can’t always be bailin’ you out.”

Tony’s good feeling toward him evaporated and he muttered to himself, some family you are, but it came out so slurred he didn’t think Niss heard because the next second, Molly’s voice came on the line.

“Tony!” she cried, a little breathlessly. “Where are you? You OK? I been talkin’ to Pops all morning about you and he just won’t budge!”

“Aw, Molls, you’re sweetie...you’re a sweetheart.” And he laughed at himself. 

“Tony, you drunk?” Molly said, sighing like Niss had, except she didn’t sound like Niss had. She sounded almost wistful. 

“Jus’ a bit. My house, my rules – ‘cept I’m not under his roof no more, so I figure?”

“Jus’ a bit. My house, my rules – ‘cept I’m not under his roof no more, so I figure?”

“Yeah…” She cleared her throat and started enunciating her words like she wanted to be sure he understood, which was probably fair. He was having a hard time focusing on anything outside how glad he was to hear her voice. “Listen, Tony, drink as much as you like, and then come home, OK? You know Pops’ll come around if you just say you’ll do what he says.”

Tony thought back to what had gotten him kicked out in the first place, rested his pounding head against the cold phone. The distant peeping prompted him to shove another coin in the slot. “What if I don’ wanna?”

“Tony?”

“He called me so many awful names, Molls. An’, you know, anybody around here’d call me the same...but I can’t help it. I don’ wanna be better. You’re the…” He hiccuped, sniffled, his hand tightening around the bag of PCP. “You’re the only person that I love an’ it doesn’t make me feel guilty. Or like I’m screwed up in some way. I see all these faces in town and think how much I could give one o’ them...if only I didn’t...feel so bad...all the time.”

“I love you, too,” she said, sounding desperate. “I always have, I always will. Remember that before you go out on a total bender, all right?”

“A bender?” He looked at the bag in his hand, suddenly remembering his plan to get totally shit-faced. “Yeah. A bender.”

Her tone changed. “Tony, did you go get more drugs? Drinkin’s one thing, but that stuff’s dangerous. Tell me you’re gonna be careful.”

“Careful?” He laughed, cackled. The phone started to tick again and this time he was all out of coins. “What for?”

“Please just come home when you come down,” she begged. “I’ll hide you a couple of days. I have girlfriends that’ll help out.”

“I love you, Molls,” he said, suddenly sober as he saw the call was about to be cut off. “Always have, always will. But I ain’t comin’ home this time.”

“Tony…” A sudden bitter note came into her voice. “Why didn’t ya take me with you? I just wanna be with you.”

The phone clicked and then went to dial tone. Tony pulled the receiver away from his ear, still cradling it in his hand. He felt like he was starting to sober up and much, much too soon. He thought of what the next few hours had in store – more dive bars, more drinking, more roaming the city until he could find a good place to get off his face. Pacing himself was not an option tonight, not with the empty gnawing space in his chest. 

And if he got really, really lucky, maybe he’d find a warm body to spend a few hours with. 

Tonight, all thoughts of his Pops could go to Hell. 

Someone pounded on the phone booth door and he noticed the receiver still in his hand, his face crumpling with the thought of poor Molly, stuck between Niss and Pops all by herself. But still…

He pressed his fingers to his lips and then touched the phone. “I ain’t...draggin’ you down with me, sweetheart,” he said. 

Then he hung up the phone and shoved his way out of the booth, PCP in hand. On second thought, forget the bars and all the rest of it.

He knew the best spot in town to be alone, up on the old bridge over the railway. He’d lay down there, imagining that he owned the world and keep dosing until the bag was empty.

After all, tonight he had enough dust to get all the way to Heaven.


	15. The Lure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Update two of two for today! Here we go…

Angel checked around the back of the club, setting eyes on exactly what he’d hoped to see: a back entrance and a manhole cover right outside. He looked around one more time before squatting down and getting four of his hands under it, lifting the cover and moving it just aside enough that it could be pushed aside easily but nothing would look amiss to anyone who didn’t take a second look. 

He checked his phone again, his message to Val all queued up. All he had to do was hit SEND.

But for now he shut it off again, tucking the mobile into his clothes and walking back around the front.

He strutted into the club with his head held high, clicking his fingers to attract the attention of the barkeep and gestured to the sign advertising open mic, all day and all night. 

“Heya, sweets!” He grinned, exposing his gold tooth. “How’dya like to make more money than you ever made in your life before?”

The barkeep looked over, grumbling, “Whaddya take me for-” before spotting who he was talking to. He looked Angel up and down as if trying to be sure it was him. Angel pointedly extended his third pair of arms, tapping his nails on the bar and the demon flushed. “It’s, uh, Angel Dust, right?”

“Yeah, it is.” He leant forward, grinning. “You might remember me from such films as-”

“What’d you mean about the money?” he interrupted, leaning in and lowering his voice. “You know this ain’t a strip club, right? Not that my customers would mind but, y’know, my patrons’ll complain if I get them thinking I can get big names like you often and I can’t.” He paused and Angel could almost see the cogs in his head turning. “Wait, I thought you’d gone straight or something? You missing the limelight?”

“Yeah,” Angel said, hitting him with the big puppy-dog eyes and finding it strangely easy to sound sincere. “I ain’t exactly known for it, sugar, but I got pipes. Good ones. And I got moves. Put the rumour around Hell that you got the one and only Angel Dust on the mic and I guarantee you’ll make twice the takings you normally would in a week in one afternoon. And I’ll even keep it clean for you, promise. Well - sorta clean.” 

Now the barkeep was looking interested. “Well, I mean...it’s open mic, I’m not responsible for who gets up there...and people are bound to talk if they hear you’re here…”

“Perfect,” Angel said, flashing him his most charming grin. He moved through the bar to the stage, setting his gym bag – now only heavy with his Tommy guns – by the stage and interrupting the drunk warbling up there already. “Can you move, sugah? I got a show to give.”

The drunk squinted at him, brightening when Angel waved some money in front of his face and falling face-first off the stage when he tried to grab it. Angel sighed, dropping the note by the demon’s head and climbing onto the little stage, yanking the mic up to his height.

This dingy place was far from the high-class joints he was used to, but it had what he needed: an escape route and little space to withstand the capacity an audience with Angel Dust could draw. 

He turned to the little karaoke screen and paged through the options, glad to see a full selection. Not that it mattered. He knew how to hold an audience’s eyes on him whether he was rocking their faces off or bringing things down with a soft little torch song. 

Angel queued the first number up, spotting from the corner of his eye the barkeep picking up the phone and dialling a number. 

Good. 

The place would be packed in no time. 

*

The crowds exceeded even Angel’s expectations: the bar was soon packed, barely room for anyone to stand and yet still more people crushed in. Angel worked through song after song, stopping only to take gulps of water to maintain his voice. 

He’d been dancing, too, every song a performance and now he was sweating – not sweating, glowing. He radiated energy to the crowd and the crowd responded, the response he got just from singing his heart out giving him a high he hadn’t felt in a while. He’d kept it clean like the barkeep wanted, no stripping, just flirty winks and pulling shapes that got the crowd roaring and yet it still felt good. Angel realised it wasn’t just the feeling of eyes on him that he’d been loving, been missing – it was that sense of connection between him and the crowd. It was why he’d always taken his performances and pole dancing so seriously – he knew he could elevate everything he did beyond a mere exhibit if his spirit followed his body…

Val had been holding him back, all this time. 

He’d compliment Angel’s looks while degrading him for the work he did at the same time. What bullshit that was. Angel was great whether he was turning tricks or not. More people than just Val accepted him. More demons wanted to hear his voice. 

Why had it taken him so long to realise that? 

Why couldn’t he have found the hotel before he’d had to cut them out for their own good?

Angel finished the number, his body curled around the microphone as the last note carried across the club, voice raw and painful. 

The crowd roared, hitting a fever pitch he recognised well from multiple nights headlining far fancier joints than this. 

Angel panted, taking a moment to shut his eyes and bathe in the applause.

It was time. 

Then he turned his back, fishing his phone out of his back pocket. 

The text was ready and waiting to be sent.

BIG V,

IT’S ANGIE. 

CLUB ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TRACKS. YOU CAN FIND IT BY THE NOISE. 

PACKED THE JOINT OUT TO MAKE BACK THE MONEY I OWE YA.

COME ENJOY THE SHOW... COME BY YOURSELF AND MAYBE I CAN GIVE YOU AN ENCORE AFTER?

And then, though it set his teeth on edge to write it:

OR MAYBE YOU’D LIKE TO SEE ME SAY SORRY ON MY KNEES IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?

He’d let the emojis communicate what he couldn’t bear to write.

He hit send. 

Angel let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as he did so. He could only hope Val wouldn’t smell a rat and would chalk up his ‘come alone’ request to Angel being afraid of getting roughed up.

Be arrogant, Val, he willed him, about to shut the phone again when it buzzed with a notification. 

Message seen. 

He span around back to face the heaving crowd, milking the applause for all it was worth even as his heart pounded so loud in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else. Slowly, theatrically, he raised the mic to his lips. 

“Youse want another?” he called. The crowd roared its approval. He could see the barkeep shaking his head in disbelief. Angel blew him a kiss, winking. This really was a small joint if they thought this little show was a big deal.

Val used to have him spend twice as long as this on just rehearsals in the past. He still had plenty of stamina to use up. 

And as he started his next number, his gaze fixed on the street out front, he knew he was going to need it. 

*

It was partway into the next performance that the scent reached him, sweet and unmistakeable. 

Val’s cigars. 

Sure enough, the limo pulled up outside just a second later. 

Angel vamped his way through the number and sneakily cut it off at the next chorus, queueing up the next one immediately. Some of the crowd seemed to notice, because the energy in the room shifted. Some of them looked back, spotted the limo – spotted Val climbing out. 

The Overlord surveyed the bar, looking over the sea of demons up to Angel onstage. 

Angel hyper-focused on the limo, trying to spot if anyone else was there, if anyone else was going to get out and follow Val. 

But no one did. 

“Uh-oh,” he said with a wicked grin, further alarming some of the crowd nearest him. “Daddy’s home. I’m in wicked trouble now.”

The next number started.

“Why do all the monsters come out at night?” he sang, projecting his voice over the crowd as Valentino approached the bar. The Overlord tried to shove his way through the crowd, hands of red smoke pushing some of the demos out of his way, but the sheer of amount of them was just too many to shift all at once. Angel’s smirk grew alongside his dominance of the stage, the crowd cheering as he locked eyes with Val and delivered the line, “Why do I run back to you, like I don’t mind if you fuck up my life?”

The cheers changed, tinged with the distinct noise of ‘did he just say that?’ as the demons looked between him and Valentino. Val’s face fell, his smirk turning to fury as he sensed what was really going on. He tore off his sunglasses, furious as Angel continued the song, the spider demon getting more furious and blatant about his feelings with every line. 

“Why am I sucker for all your lies?” Angel sang. He pointed straight at the Overlord. Everyone in the bar froze, the looks on their faces half-fear, half-awe as Angel’s hands turned and he publicly flipped the bird at Val with all six. “Strung out like laundry on every line…”

Now Val was pushing forward again but Angel kept going, holding himself taut as a string as he wound into the middle eight, thinking to himself, That’s it, Val. Get mad. Think with the anger, not the brain. You’ve done it often enough. 

“Thinkin’ about you, you’re in my head...even without you, I still feel dead,” he sang, stamping his foot to the beat. The crowd pushed Val back and after a second, something bizarre happened – they joined in. A whole bar full of stomping boots punctuated every line, drove Angel’s anger onwards and he felt for a second that they shared it – they knew what Val was and they hated him, too. 

He was so, so hated. 

And here, in this moment…

Angel was loved. 

“Even without you, I still feel dead,” he sang, stamping his heel like he could stamp out Val like a bug and in the last second he went off-script, changing the words with a slam of his heels on the stage, “So this is the last time you, you ever FUCK UP MY LIFE!”

Val snarled, his powers flaring and struggling to part the demons so he could get through but Angel was expecting it, pulling out a pistol and shooting at the lights, the smash of glass and sudden darkness enough to give him time to grab the gym bag and jump off the stage, throwing himself at the back door and sprinting outside. 

He dumped the gym bag to one side and pulled out his arsenal – Tommy guns, more pistols, more firepower – and yelled, “COME ON, VAL! COME AND GET ME!” before turning and shoving the manhole cover to one side, jumping down into the sewers and landing neatly in a crouch. 

Val was yelling and there was the distinct sound of his heels rapidly approaching as Angel sprinted down the narrow pathway, filthy water racing alongside him. He could see a gate up ahead and sped up, knowing he needed to get into a wider playground as soon as possible if he was to stand a chance. 

“ANGEL!” Val roared. Angel had made it to the gate, looked over his shoulder just as Val landed in the sewers, the moth demon’s eye twitching with rage. 

Angel pulled himself up to full height, holding Val’s gaze as he pointedly lifted his second set of arms and then the third, a firearm held in every hand. 

“Angelcakesss….” Val said, practically hissing the words. “What the FUCK was that? What the fuck is this?” He gestured at Angel disdainfully, like it was no big deal Angel had six firearms pointed his way. “Enough of the bullshit, darlin’. I’ve put up with so much from you and it’s about time you learn for good – you’re mine, doll. And you’re gonna spend the rest of your afterlife payin’ me back every last. Penny. You owe me.”

Angel took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “No,” he said. 

Damn, that felt good. He only wished Charlie could’ve been here to see it. 

But she wasn’t. This was between him and Val. 

“What.” Val’s voice was flat, a buzz under his words.

“No. No, no, no. I don’t owe you shit and I never owed you shit. From now on, whatever I do, I work for the money, I keep the money.” He gripped the gate, pushing it. It opened a fraction, a ready escape route behind him. Angel struggled to keep his tone level even though he felt like he just wanted to scream at him. “That song was for you, Val,” he said, coldly. “Meant every word.”

Val stared him down. He shrugged off his big coat to the ground, pointedly rolled up his sleeves. 

“I’m keeping the money,” Angel said again, preparing himself for the fight of his life. “And I’m keeping me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, this is it! We’re on the home run stretch now. Btw, the song Angel sings to Val (with adapted lyrics at one point) is ‘Monsters’ by All Time Low. I debated a lot what to go with there, but I feel like between Angel’s fun loving persona and having danced for crowds, he would have a pretty broad taste in pop songs, unlike someone like Alastor whose native time period is more obvious.


	16. The Fight to the Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not gonna lie, I enjoyed writing this one. Thanks for all comments so far! Please R&R as always :D

Angel dashed through the gate, taking in the huge stone arena at a glance: long stone arches to a higher level, massive pool of water in the center, levers everywhere with water flowing from every direction. He’d lured Val right into the heart of Hell’s cistern and he couldn’t be happier about it. 

He redoubled his speed, firing off a few rounds behind him just in case Val was hot on his tail, but he knew the Overlord wouldn’t be. Valentino might be a cunning son of a bitch when it came to business and making everyone around him feel like crap, but on the few occasions Angel had seen him fight his moves were obvious: shut down the opposition as quickly and brutally as possible.

And that would mean only one thing.

Angel dashed under one of the arches, using his high jump to get on top of them and launching himself at the nearest valve. He yanked it hard with all six of his hands, grateful he wasn’t wearing his gloves for once and could get a good grip. 

Beneath him, Val was laughing. Shit. He sounded close. 

But he obviously didn’t know what Angel was up to. 

The valve gave suddenly and water came gushing out of a nearby grate, flowing down into the room below. 

But he was getting too greedy; he needed to keep moving.

Angel ducked down, correctly predicting the red smoke striking, whip-like, right near his head. He dashed to the next valve, yanking it open even faster and then the next and the next until water was gushing from every grate until he couldn’t even look up without looking through a sheet of high-pressure water. 

Then Val’s distorted face appeared through it, his grin unmistakeable. 

Angel dived off the platform and down to the stone floor, landing on his hands and rolling as gunfire chased him behind a pillar. He heard Val growling, even over the sound of the rushing water. The Overlord was still angered beyond reason – Angel smiled, cocking his guns. Good. So long as Val wasn’t thinking straight, he’d be able to outsmart him. 

Racing out from the pillar, Angel brought a blaze of gunfire with all six guns as he sprinted towards the next bit of cover. Val darted behind cover himself, clicking his fingers instead of firing back and Angel stopped dead as the arms of the red smoke bore down on him, stretching out with grabbing fingers -

But as soon as they caught the veil of high-pressure water separating the porn star from the Overlord, the smoky arms were pushed down before falling apart entirely, unable to retain their shape. 

Val looked out at Angel, seeing him standing there unaffected. Even from this distance, Angel could see Val’s jaw drop. 

He grinned and opened fire on Val once again, forcing him to hide. 

Stage one: shut down the red smoke had worked perfectly.

Now Val had no long distance attack to pin Angel down with, so long as Angel minded the distance between them. 

Angel kept firing, moving back towards covering and keeping Val pinned down as much as possible. 

Now for stage two. 

All demons were pretty durable by nature – they could be beaten to a bloody pulp and still be walking around in the next few days (as Angel knew all too well). It was going to take more than a few bullets through that thick hide of his to drop Val, especially given his Overlord status. 

So, the next part of the plan: wear him down first. 

Angel rushed out from behind the pillar, already spotting the next metal grate that would be his cover. He opened fire again, smashing an absolute hailstorm of bullets at Val’s hiding place and shredding the stone to pieces. 

Val ran for his life to the next bit of cover but Angel was covering that route, too, utilising his extra arms to spray the way ahead with bullets, too. Val cried out in pain as the shots landed and the moth demon ducked backward instead, backing up to give himself room to turn and return fire. 

Angel gritted his teeth as something grazed his arm and he fell back, too, pressing his back behind another pillar. He was about to rush out again when something heavy when clink, clink, clink-ing on the stone and he looked down to see a grenade coming to a stop right by his foot. 

“SHIT!” Angel cried, throwing himself backwards just as it went off and the explosion threw him further, slamming down hard into the stone. He rolled over, groaning at the pain lancing through his ribs and already Val was bearing down at him, guns cocked in two hands and the other two pulling the pin off another grenade. 

All six of Angel’s arms went up, unloading a desperate round of gunfire straight at his chest. Val managed to sweep them to the side with a quick cloud of red smoke but one got through, catching him in the shoulder and making him wince.

And then he dropped the grenade.

It clattered to the stone, falling right between Val and Angel. Their eyes locked and then both dived out of the way, Angel shooting as he went. The explosion went off, blinding him and throwing him down to the stone so hard it grazed all down his back. 

Angel hissed, rolling onto his side and blinking quickly, trying to clear his vision. His hands moved on instinct, reloading his Tommy gun as he tried to get back up onto one knee. He fired blind and heard Val grunt in pain and Angel staggered up again, clutching his arm as he wobbled over towards the blurry shape of another pillar. 

Shit, shit, shit. Should’ve known Val would have something else up his sleeves. Was he storing the grenades in that damn red smoke or what? Even if Angel had stopped him using it offensively, maybe it had other uses...

No time to think about it now. Had to focus. 

All he had to do was get in closer and get a few more hits on Val, then grab the spear and end everything. 

He wasn’t going to get another chance if he didn’t hurry. Not if Val was taking the opportunity to text someone for help. 

The thought of Vox coming down here with his electrical wires and all this water around spurred Angel into action. 

He was born and bred in the underworld, knew how to shoot a gun before he’d ever rode a bike. He had six arms to Val’s measly four. 

And he was Angel fucking Dust. 

He wasn’t going to live another second in fear of that bastard. 

Suddenly a voice cut through the sound of the water, a voice that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

“Angeeeelll…” Val hissed, the word low and buzzing. Angel knew that tone: it was one of barely contained fury. 

And he sounded nearby. Angel could hear his footsteps, creeping closer and closer. “Come on, darlin’… come out now and I’ll go easy on you. Don’t you think this little joyride of yours has gone on long enough?”

Angel ground his teeth. 

He put one of his guns in his belt, freeing up one of his hands. 

And he moved out from behind the pillar, into a patch of smoke. 

The shadow of Val was moving closer, towering over him like always. But Angel stood firm. 

No way Val meant anything he said, he just wanted to draw Angel out to learn him a worse lesson. 

Well, here I am, Val, he thought. Come on...come and get me.

Val’s silhouette turned, tensed. He’d been spotted. 

The grin on the moth demon’s face widened, glowed through the smoke. He moved his hands out from behind his back, something round in his hands. 

Bombs. They were bombs this time. 

Hell, if only Angel had let the others in on this instead of barely being able to afford the spear, he’d have had a bloody arsenal to blast the bastard away with...

But then he’d known from the get-go Val would be playing with a loaded deck. 

Val casually lit a cigarette, then the fuses. 

But Angel sprang forward, taking him off guard and Val fumbled, trying to dodge back and throw the bombs at the same time but his aim was lousy and caught them, lit fuse and all before tossing them right back and aiming at the bombs with pinpoint accuracy, having to stop still to do it-

It happened in the same instant: Angel opened fire and exploded all of Val’s bombs – right in his fucking face! - just as Val raised his one remaining pistol and shot Angel square in the leg. 

Explosions went off all around Val as Angel yelled and crumpled to the floor, hand pressed to his leg as the pain of the shot spread up and up and he groaned, bent double against the stone. 

Get up, he willed himself. Get up and move. Get over and finish the fucker before-

Something struck him in the side of the temple, a familiar sickly-sweet scent making his head spin before his skull connected with the ground. His wobbly vision was suddenly flooded with red and oh, shit, he’d gotten too close, let Val bring the red smoke back into play-

Angel dropped onto his back, raising all of his arms and firing blind again but this time Val was ready for it and with one whip of the red smoke his pistols, his Tommy guns – all were severed in two. 

It had been the first move he’d ever seen Val use, the first one he’d prepared for. 

He couldn’t let it be the last. 

Angel rolled onto his stomach and tried to get up, stumbling as his damn leg gave out and he barely made it any distance before he was being seized by the scruff of his neck and pulled back and swung around into the wall so fast his head snapped back and slammed into the stone, leaving him reeling as he was suspended off the ground by the red smoke, his chest crushed in its grip so tight he could barely breathe, all but his lower set of arms pinned. 

Val took his time walking over to him, the moth bleeding from his head, his clothes torn and bullet holes in one side. He was growling with the pain and Angel took pride in that. 

That and the blood he spat at Val’s feet.

Val’s hand flew up to backhand him, but when Angel didn’t flinch away, he stalled. Then he came in close, the narrowed eyes and suppressed rage giving way to an even worse look: first satisfaction, then total clinical apathy. He sized Angel up as though he were a bug, looking down at the bullet wound in his leg and slowly, slowly, deliberately back up to Angel’s face.

Angel glared at him, letting all the anger he had spent years repressing show in his face. He had never hated Val as intensely as he did in that moment, and he wanted the moth demon to know it. 

Val leant in close, dropping his voice to its most insect-like buzz. 

“Lemme tell you how this goes from here, Angel cakes…” He gripped Angel’s grazed arm, twisting it hard until Angel hissed with pain. “You’re gonna come back to my Studio and you’re gonna learn your place for good. First...I think I’ll dope you up so bad you don’t know which way’s up. But it ain’t gonna be your namesake, sweetheart.” He smiled, exposing his gold tooth. “Yeah, you’ll be riding the white horse for awhile. And while you’re over the rainbow, I’ll make back every dime I lost outta you.”

He twisted harder but Angel bit his lip so hard his teeth pierced his skin, refusing to make another noise. For once, Val didn’t notice his refusal to give in, too lost in the scenario he was describing. 

“And, you’re gonna be the Studio mascot. Every bad client, every lousy shoot? All yours, darlin’. Every employee of mine who had to deal with your bullshit? They get to take it out on you...however...they... like.” He chuckled, the smoke growing thicker around the two of them. Angel tried to turn his head, coughing, refusing to take it in this time. “An’ that goes double for me, darlin’. Anything I tell you to do...you do. Anyone I tell you to do...you’ll do.”

He forced Angel’s head back around to look him in the eye. “And when you finally come down off the heroin high, you’ll realise what you should have accepted years ago: you are mine. You’re not a star, you’re my doll. My whore.”

Angel chuckled suddenly, throwing Val off balance. The red smoke tightened around his throat, making him croak, but Angel kept laughing.

“The hell is so funny, sugar?”

Angel couldn’t help it. The words had come into his head from long in the past, but suddenly they felt right. “I’m not...your whore,” he ground out, pushing against the smoke so his head was off the stone, getting right up to Val, eye to eye, nose to nose. “You ain’t even - paying me for the benefit.”

“Fuckin’…” Val growled. “Enough, Angelcakes. From now on you do what I tell you. So - what do you say to Daddy?”

Angel writhed against the stone, managing to get his legs up against it even with the burning pain of the bullet. He couldn’t push back hard enough to spring free, but his lower arms...his lower arms were still unrestrained and he could reach the tip of his boots...and the handle of the spear hidden within. 

He curled his hand around it, smiling the reckless smile of the man who knows he has nothing to lose and everything to gain. 

“I say...GO TO HELL!” 

He yanked the spear out, the awkward pose forcing him into a slashing motion but it didn’t matter; he slashed right across Val’s side, the Overlord yowling and his flesh hissing as the angelic weapon made contact, the red smoke instantly losing its form and letting Angel drop to the floor. 

Angel fell down heavily, his leg stinging and blood flowing into the water around them. 

But his adrenaline was racing with the victory of seeing Val rear back, clutching his side and screaming at the top of his lungs. Angel smirked, getting back to his feet and raising the weapon in his hands, ready for another round. 

But the Overlord recovered quicker than he’d expected, the increase to his size telling Angel he was about to see the strength of his demon form in full force. He rounded on the porn star, dropping his hand from his side and revealing and ugly slash mark that glowed white-hot, like he’d been burnt with a poker. 

“Oh, baby….” he hissed, his voice dropping lower and slower. “Are we really doing this? You really wanna go this road with me?”

Angel took a deep breath in, the weight of the weapon a feeling of pure power in his hands. “Yeah,” he said, straightening up to his full height. Val might have a head on him no matter what he did, but right then he felt eight feet tall. “Yeah! Listen up, you absolute shit-heel of a human being...you ‘n me are done, Val. No matter what happens, only one of us is walkin’ away from this. And I’m betting on me.”

Val’s eye twitched. 

It was just a second and it was just the tiniest movement, but Angel zeroed right in on it, realising with a rush in his blood what it meant. 

Valentino, Overlord of Hell, was afraid. 

And win or lose, that feeling was worth everything.


	17. The Fight to the Death part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yup, it’s a part 2! It ran a bit long. As ever, comments appreciated :D

Val roared, total fury warping his features as he charged at Angel but Angel ducked back, passing his spear between his hands, effectively camouflaging where his strike was going to come from but keeping Val back with a few well-placed jabs. 

Unable to disarm the porn star, Val pulled out more handguns but this time Angel was ready for him, springing forward and at the last second springing high into the air, taking Val completely off guard and feinting once again, passing the spear from one set of his arms – aiming at Val himself – to the other, turning his aim at the last second and slicing every single handgun in half. 

It took Val a second to realise what Angel had done, his focus more on using the red smoke just to shove Angel away in his confusion, but when he realised what Angel had done his expression was priceless. He turned the guns in all his hands around, looking at the clean edge where Angel had severed the tops off like he couldn’t quite believe it, throwing them to the ground with a clatter of bullets and a noise of disgust. 

The Overlord rounded on Angel, so angry now he was physically shaking, his top lip curling up and exposing his clenched teeth. 

Angel twirled the spear in his hands, staring him down with an expression of cold superiority. “Betcha remember that trick, dontcha, Val?”

Val’s eye twitched and he suddenly summoned a cloud of red smoke around himself, throwing out two grabbing claws at Angel’s throat but Angel blocked with the spear, parrying the blows and trying to dart back to get back behind his the protective veil of the water but Val kept pressing closer and faster, the claws grabbing at his arm, trying to punch at his wounded leg-

Angel lost his temper, started to hit back – slashing and stabbing at the red claws and saw with shock that the weapon was actually cutting through the red smoke. Val’s eyes widened but he regrouped quickly, calling the arms back in around himself and launching himself off the ground at Angel with blinding speed and the spider demon only had enough time to guard with the spear to block Val from seizing him by the throat. 

Val’s primary hands were scrabbling and scratching at Angel, hissing in his face as he caught his hair and his cheek with his nails, the Overlord trying his damnedest to get at Angel’s eyes while his other hands were yanking at the spear and he was trying to wrench it out of Angel’s hands with such savage strength that it was all Angel could do to hang on, four of his hands clinging onto the spear while the rest tried to ward off Val from scratching out his eyes. 

The Overlord bore his entire weight against Angel, looming over him with complete fury in his eyes. “FUCKING TRY AND KILL ME, WHORE?” he screamed, teeth gleaming with spittle. “YOU’RE NOTHING COMPARED TO ME!” He pulled so hard that Angel was lifted off his feet to dangle helplessly in the air, suspended by the spear, his legs pedalling in a desperate attempt to get traction anywhere he could. Angel gave up on stopping Val blinding him, all six of his hands holding onto the spear with the complete desperate knowledge that letting go would be the difference between life and death. “AND IT’S ABOUT TIME THAT YOU LEARNT THAT, ONCE AND FOR ALL!”

Angel clung on for dear life, total cold dread curdling in his gut as he realised Val was far stronger than him and there was no way he could hang on much longer.

So he let one of his hands drop, grabbing one of his pistols and blasting Val straight in the spear wound. 

The Overlord howled, rearing back with the pain and summoning an inhuman strength as he wrenched the spear to one side, throwing Angel off but losing his own grip at the same time. Angel was thrown to the ground, trying to catch the spear but it sailed right over his head and splashed into the water. 

He rose onto his hands and knees, scrambling to the edge of the stone where the water was rushing. He scanned the water quickly, heart pounding as he actually prayed to whoever was listening that the spear hadn’t been washed away... 

There. It was sitting at the bottom, just within reach. Angel reached out to grab it - 

And he was yanked back by the scruff of his shirt, Val’s arms locking around him and pulling him back from the edge. The two of them struggled, Angel kicking and trying his hardest to get free. Val suddenly dropped him and Angel landed painfully on his wounded leg, bringing up his pistol again and firing but his aim was off, the shot going straight under Val’s arm and then Val was on him, grabbing him and forcing him over onto his back and his arms punching and snapping Angel’s hand back to get the gun from his grip and Angel yelled as he was disarmed, his other arms clawing at Val’s front, trying to get at his wound and punch him there a second time. 

Val bore his entire weight against Angel, leaning down and completely taking Angel off guard by clamping his jaw around Angel’s neck and biting down in a signal of total dominance. 

The wicked sharp teeth sank in and even though Angel knew Val didn’t have venom like he had, the shock of the Overlord drawing his blood making him writhe and scream and kick, sheer panic fuelling his desire to get Val off of him, no matter what. 

Val yanked his head back, his teeth ripping Angel’s flesh along with it. He loomed above Angel, eyes narrowed and teeth dripping blood, hissing, “You always did know how to make it good, Angel cakes…”

Angel swore at him in Italian, trying to get Val off him again but he was so much heavier than Angel and now the Overlord was shifting his weight, pinning Angel’s lower arms to his sides and just pushing his entire weight against Angel’s body, the sensation sickeningly awful and familiar -

Right until the moment he reached down and put his hands around Angel’s neck. 

He let Angel take a gasping breath in before he started to squeeze. 

Tears formed in the corners of Angel’s eyes, his hands trying to pry off Val’s iron grip as he started to choke. 

Val’s rage had vanished from his eyes as quickly as it had come, replaced with a strange blankness. “It’s going to hurt,” he said, almost sympathetically. “I still gotta punish you, Angel, but you gotta understand, doll…”

Angel struggled, moving his head to the side, scratching at Val in a futile attempt to get him off. Black spots were blooming across his vision, but he could still see Val and the look on his face terrified him. 

It was bloody, and messed up from the fight, and affectionate. 

Val was looking at him the way someone might look at a favourite stuffed animal they thought they had lost. 

“Everything in the Studio belongs to me, Angel, to me. Once you’re punished I might forgive you tryin’ to kill me, doll, because afterwards you’ll get it. Nothing leaves the Studio that’s mine. You’re a part of my empire, you aren’t separate from me.”

“No-”

“Listen, Angel. You gotta stop making me break this down for you.” Despite his words he squeezed ever harder, making Angel feel he was going to black out any second now. “You aren’t separate. You’re going to accept that, no matter what I have to do. There’s not going to be a thought in your head I didn’t put there.”

“Please-” Angel gasped, a tear escaping down the side of his face. “Val-”

“You’re gonna go to sleep now, doll,” he said, tightening his grip. “And when you wake up, you’re not gonna remember anything outside the Studio. No more hotel. No more stupid ‘friends’. No more trouble. Just me and your home.”

It was that word that did it – like an electric current had taken hold of his body, Angel arched his back, all his energy furiously focused around getting Val’s damn hands off him, because he wasn’t going to stand for this one more time-

In his thrashing, Angel raised his boot and kicked Val square in the side. Once, then twice, then a third time until Val’s grip loosened and Angel sucked in precious air, using the surge of strength to kick out harder, push back with his hands and yank himself out from under the Overlord.

“Motherfucker,” Angel spat, coughing, panting, kicking out again and again. Val collapsed onto his side, trying to get away from Angel, finally winded enough to cover the spear wound with one hand. Angel crawled backwards too, anything to get away from Valentino, spitting and swearing in Italian all the way. 

“Angel-” Val started, reaching out to him imploringly, like he hadn’t just been trying to choke Angel out, or terrify him into submission for weeks and weeks...

“Stop,” Angel said, leaning back on his hands when Val tried to get closer. “No!”

Val actually paused at the snap in his voice. The two of them sat opposite one another, both breathless and wounded from the fight, Val staring at him with his infuriating look of confusion, like he didn’t quite recognise Angel and didn’t understand how they’d gotten there.

“The hotel,” Angel said, breathless. He pressed his hand against his boot near his bullet wound, using the pain to centre himself. “The hotel...is my home.” He stood, looking down on Val. “It’s not you. It’s never been you.” The moth’s eyes widened and there was a look in them, for just a flicker of a second, that Angel had never seen before.

He’d lost and he knew it. 

Then the switch flipped back over, rage growing in his eyes again. “You-”

“You kept us waiting a long time!” a cheer voice cut in. 

The two of them froze, bamboozled. They both looked down at the same time, just as Angel’s shadow stretched outwards, becoming two people before the second broke away from his and rose up into a familiar, antlered figure standing before him. 

“Smiles?” Angel said.

The shadow’s Cheshire-cat grin grew. “I was waiting to hear you say that,” it said. 

“And it looks like we arrived just in time,” Alastor said, from behind them. Angel whipped around, heart stopping at the sight of the group standing at the entrance to the cistern. 

Charlie stood at the head of the group, horns already sprouting from her head. Vaggie was by her side, spear raised, righteous fury in her eyes. And then people he didn’t expect so much – Alastor, Husk, Nifty. 

His sister. 

His father.

He locked eyes with each of them, a complex expression on Henroin’s face vanishing as quickly as it came as he looked over the scene. 

“Need some help, my effeminate fellow?” Alastor called, smiling. 

Val hissed loudly, pulling himself to his feet and staggering away from Angel, collapsing against the wall and pulling his phone from his pocket. Before anyone could stop him, he pressed a button, glaring hard at Angel and the rest of the group.

“You fuckers really think you’ve got me cornered?” he hissed. “I haven’t even gotten started.”


	18. The Fight to the Death part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Warning for increased violence and some gore in this chapter. Let me know if you think the rating should go up, I tried to err on the more fantastical side of things rather than too much gruesome detail. I have an alternate title for the chapter in mind, but I couldn't resist having a part 3 and making it like an epic video game boss fight. Thanks again for all reviews!

Alastor calmly took off his coat and handed it to Nifty, leaning down to whisper something in her ear. She smiled and nodded, hanging back while the others stepped forwards. Alastor straightened up and smiling again, spinning the staff in his hand. “Well, my fine fellow,” he called to Angel as everyone else hurried into the sewer towards him. “You have chosen a difficult arena for me to showcase my skills. I would hate to bring the ceiling down on us all while showing your opponent what his insides look like.”

Angel backed off, not really listening to him as he kept one eye on Val and the other on the water. All he needed was an opening to grab that damn spear and he could end this for good. 

The red smoke was gathering around Val again and Angel tried to dodge out of the way but it was too late, the Overlord launched himself at Angel, claws grazing Angel’s face just as Husk landed next to him and seized the spider in his arms, launching them both into the air with his wings. 

Angel looked over his shoulder, beaming at the cat demon. “Husk! How’d you guys-”

“No time for that right now, spider,” he growled, focusing on flying them away from Val. 

Suddenly a red whip sliced through the air and Angel barely had time to twist his body to get Husk out of the line of fire when the red claw seized Angel’s ankle, the grip slipping off but the force enough to send them both crashing to the ground. 

“Pin him down!” Molly yelled, the group spreading out across the pillars. She caught Angel’s eye, a relieved smile on her face. Henroin was watching, too, a look on his face Angel couldn’t decipher. Angel smiled back anyway, his arms pulling Husk up to get him away from harm. 

He couldn’t see Val anywhere, the Overlord must have hidden somewhere. 

It was the only smart move left, but it wasn’t going to be enough to save him. 

Not unless…

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” 

Angel whipped around for the second time, heart in his throat at the sight of yet more demons coming in from the other end of the cistern. And he recognised all of them very well – heavies from the Studio, with Dia and Summer leading the group. 

The two girls took in the scene at a glance, a noticeable look of shock on their faces when they spotted Angel – both looking him up and down as if amazed he was still (mostly) standing. 

Nifty yelped in surprise, clutching Alastor’s coat a bit tighter. She darted to the side, hiding behind a bit of the wall. Val’s cronies scarcely noticed her, though. Their eyes were locked on Angel, the rest of them looking out for Val. 

Valentino reappeared a second later, daring to step out from the column he’d been hiding behind. His workers couldn’t hide their gasps of shock and Angel saw for the first time how rough Val looked – the gunshots in his hide, but most obviously the red weeping wound where Angel had slashed him with the spear. And then there were the bruises, the scratches, the rips in his normally perfect outfit, the way he stood there without the coat that usually served to make him look twice as broad across the shoulders…

Angel fixed the Studio staff with a hard look, smirking. “I did that,” he called to them, flaring Val’s ire back up. Even with the exhaustion and pain from the fight, Angel was past caring. “Me. By myself.”

“He’s just a damn bug, ain’t he?” Husk said, laughing. He leant against Angel to stand and Angel realised with a pang of regret – the poison was still affecting him. For a moment he and Husk locked eyes before Husk quickly looked away, his focus on the rest of the group. 

Their faces had all turned from victorious to grim but determined, with the exception of Alastor. The Radio Demon’s aura was growing darker, his grin growing wider and wider. Even as the Studio heavies filed into the cistern, drawing guns and weapons and surrounded the group, he only looked more and more pleased.

“Angel, my dear fellow!” he suddenly called, his radio static echoing across the space. “Mind if I take care of your co-workers?”

“Former co-workers,” Angel said, looking back over at Val only to find the Overlord was hiding from sight in a cloud of red smoke once again. “And they’re all yours, Smiles.”

“Save some for us,” Charlie said, Vaggie right behind her.

Alastor grinned, turning his back on the rest of the group and spreading out his arms. Immediately a black hole opened up in the ground, the black tentacles reaching out of it and slamming down on the ground, knocking several of them back in one swoop. Some of the water started to drain into the hole, dropping the channels at the edge of the room and exposing a glint in the water: the spear. 

Angel’s heart skipped and he turned quickly to Husk, saying, “I gotta get over there – there’s a-”

“Look out!” Husk yelled, forcing Angel to the floor just as Val launched himself at them from behind a pillar and tried to seize Angel with his hands. Husk spread his wings wide, knocking Valentino away but in the next second he was up again and raising something in his hands, something that made Angel’s heart stop.

The spear. 

“Shit,” Husk growled. 

The others were running to surround Valentino, bullets hailing from all sides getting bounced off as the red smoke surrounded the spear, turning it from a close range weapon to a dangerous projectile. Henroin and Molly pushed in at one side, their shotgun blasts trying and failing to blow the Overlord away. Val just grinned, rounding on them and raising the spear high with the red smoke, ready to strike through both of them in one fell swoop. 

“GET BACK!” Angel screamed, shooting at Val to draw his attention but the Overlord barely looked his direction. He deflected the bullets, catching them with smoke or spear while his eyes glowed an unholy red, the full force of his demon form focused on hurting Angel’s family. 

Molly stood her ground, her eyes blazing with a look Angel knew well, a look that said: you laid hands on my little brother and nothin’s gonna stop me dishin’ double back out to you. 

Even Henroin was refusing to move, shotgun raised and an expression of total contempt in his eyes as he regarded Valentino. 

Dread filled Angel even as he felt touched: he couldn’t let his happen. He prepared himself, leaning weight onto his wounded leg as he prepared to spring forward. Husk saw what he was intending to do and spread his wings, trying to tackle Angel to the ground but Angel was quicker, dodging out of the way and rushing at Val as the spear raised to its highest point, gambling his entire existence on the fact that Val’s desire to drag him back to the Studio by his hair would be greater than his wish to kill him. 

Molly and Henroin cried out in alarm, Val finally distracted from his strike and grinning as Angel propelled himself helplessly towards Val. 

It all happened at once – Angel jumped at Val, his hands thrown out to try and push his spear off course. Val was already turning, ignoring Molly and Henroin in favour of seizing Angel, all his arms winding around the spider and the two of them slammed together in a mess of arms and teeth and red smoke, Angel breathing it all in, his sheer fury fuelling him to just keep going, keep grabbing-

Val turned him around, trying to cage Angel against his chest, the spear pushing up, up towards his throat and the others skidded to a stop, trying and failing to get a clear shot at the Overlord as the two of them struggled. Angel grabbed the spear in four hands, planting his heels and bending suddenly forward, trying to take Val off guard and flip him over his shoulder. 

With the Overlord’s taller height Angel couldn’t quite manage it but Val’s grip on him loosened and so did his grip on the spear and at that moment someone must have gotten a clear shot as a hail of bullets pushed Val away from him, letting Angel fall to the floor – along with the spear.

He hit the ground, the spear clattering across the stone in front of him and rolling to a stop...just in reach. 

For a moment everyone froze. Then everyone exploded into action – his friends moving to blow Val away, Val diving at Angel, Angel -

Angel reached for the spear.

His hand closed around it just as Val’s hand seized on his shoulder, his hair. 

White-hot rage burnt inside him. Angel’s vision turned to red and he swung around, spear slicing through the air as he yelled, “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” 

and Val’s eyes widened, a look of panic in his eyes betraying the fact that he really, really hadn’t thought this through the second before the spear connected-

And sliced cleanly through two of Val’s hands, severing them from the wrist and leaving only glowing white stumps in their place. 

Val fell back onto the floor, a buzzing whine of pain replaced by gasps of complete and total shock as he took in what Angel had done. 

Angel stood over him, spear in hand, pain from the bullet wound in his leg and decades of rage filling his head as he yelled, “DON’T YOU TOUCH ME! DON’T YOU EVER TOUCH ME!”

And everything had gone quiet. 

The two groups stopped dead at the sight of the crippled Overlord, the Studio staff struggling in vain against Alastor no longer bothering to fight, instead just standing. Staring. 

Alastor merely raised an eyebrow, gesturing to Nifty, the little demon creeping out of the shadows to get a better view of the scene. 

But Angel noticed none of it. He stood over Val, panting, spear raised and lips pulled back in a snarl. Overlord scrambled back on his hands and knees, desperate. 

“All the things you’ve called me,” Angel hissed, stabbing at Val, the Overlord barely able to dodge back each time. “All the things you did to me. All the bloody money I made you – more than anyone at the Studio ever has!”

“D-Darlin’-”

“And that? That wasn’t the worst of it.” He kicked Val hard, knocking the Overlord over onto his back. Val held his two remaining hands up, guarding his face, actually whimpering in fear. “No, the worst of it – the worst of it was what ya made me get used to. You killed me a second time, Val. Ya got me to a place where you forcing yourself on me was just routine!”

“I-” Val started, antennae down flat against his head as he shook. “I- I’m-” And he paused, not even able to get a fake apology out. Angel kicked him again, as viciously as he could manage.

“I’m fucking done, Val! Get it through ya thick skull once. And! For! All!” Angel growled, slamming the spear down right next to Val’s head. “This is MY LIFE! And I’m taking it back!”

Val trembled on the ground, struggling to call his red smoke to protect himself but getting only wobbly hands and shapes, agony evident on his face. “Darlin’...please...we can talk about – Angelcakes-”

That word. That bloody word. 

Angel turned his ire on the Studio staff, furiously staring them down. Alastor had been holding them back, but at Angel’s look he willingly let them stand and face him. 

“Ya didn’t think I could win, did ya?” he told them. “Well, this is what happened. Whatdya think about that? Ya wanna be under Val’s thumb the rest of your afterlives?”

Shock and doubt ran through the crowd. They looked at him, then at each other. They were uncertain, unsure. In another life, they could’ve been his friends. 

It was actually Summer’s eyes that Angel held the longest. She was staring at him, her face a mixture of pride...and regret. 

They’d both seen each other pinned down by Val at one time or another. 

They’d both pissed Val off only to have Val turn around and take it out on the other person. 

They’d both just looked the other way and gotten on with their shitty, shitty day. 

Slowly, slowly, Summer opened her mouth and said, “Kill him.”

Val’s head snapped up, horror on his insect features. Summer’s face twisted in rage. “Kill him, Angel! Make the fucker bleed for all of us.”

A shocked pause.

Then it started. 

First one then another of the Studio staff chimed in until all of them were egging Angel on and calling for blood, yelling back every insult Val had hurled at them over the years. 

It wasn’t just Angel’s rage that was spilling to the surface and crashing over Val like a tidal wave, not any more. 

And the Overlord looked crushed in the face of it.


	19. The Cavalry

Val scuttled back on his hands and knees, managed to stand. His crippled arms were cradled against his body as the demons closed in from all sides, even Charlie making no move to try to spare Val the pain that was to come. 

Val turned one last time, meeting Angel’s gaze. It was all written on his face – the desperate desire to bargain his way out coupled with total disbelief that this could ever happen to him. Angel’s anger turned to pity, for maybe the first and only time.

“...Ya still don’t get it,” he said. “Ya really think ya better than all of us, don’t ya?”

Val ground his teeth, golden one shining in the dark. The sight of it made Angel pause, heartsick. 

“We were ‘sposed to be a team,” Angel said, softly. 

A sudden shriek of static cut through the silence and a crackly voice yelled, “VAL!”

Everyone looked up and Alastor’s smile soured as they saw Vox and Velvet standing at the gate. Vox’s horror turned to rage immediately and he raised crackling wires, parting the Studio staff with two whips of his cables to get a path to Val. 

Val took advantage of the shocked pause to gather the red smoke again and propel himself forward, racing towards Vox and Angel yelled, “Don’t you dare-” but Husk grabbed him by the arms, stopping him and shoving them back with a great push from his wings just as Vox tried to electrocute them both. 

Angel turned to Alastor, who was watching Val go and doing nothing. “Stop him!” Angel cried, beside himself. “Alastor!”

But it was too late – Val had grabbed one of Vox’s cables and in a flash, the Overlord had pulled Val to his side. All three Overlords clasped hands, relieved. 

“About fucking time,” Val snapped, his anger fading as he practically collapsed against him. Velvet was looking at all the carnage with total blood lust in her eyes, fetching her favourite axe from the folds of her dress. 

“Val, didn’tcha have four hands this morning?” she said innocently. She surveyed the group, spotting Angel and the spear in his hands. Immediately Hazbins drew together, forming a circle around him. Velvet pouted, looking put out. “Angeeeeel, did you do that? It’s not nice to cut off people’s hands, y’know. Big Vee was using those!” 

The Studio staff had gotten up again, all of them backing off from Vox and nervously crowding around the Hazbins, too, their courage seemingly evaporated now the other Overlords had come on the scene. 

Alastor didn’t budge, however: the burning pit formed by his powers was still active, his antlers unnaturally extended and his eyes slowly becoming two black holes, features going full nightmare-face at the sight of Vox.

“So you got the Radio Demon to bail you out, Angel?” Vox said, though his focus was on Alastor. His screen crackled with agitated static. “Dirty move, sugar.”

“Shut. Up.” Angel’s tone said do not mess, Vox’s eyes snapping back over to him in shock. “If ya had any smarts, you’d be standing with us, not with him. And I’m the one who beat Val and don’t ya ever forget it!”

Val was still gasping in pain, grabbing Vox’s arm with one of his remaining hands. “Voxy. Vox, you gotta help me,” he said softly. “They’re mine – they’re all mine. I don’t care how bad you gotta fuck ‘em up, you don’t let ‘em leave. And fuckin’ Angel. Shock the fuckin’ life outta him if you gotta, he’s not leaving me.”

Molly clenched her fists. “You lousy-”

Husk cleared his throat, drawing the Hazbins’ attention. “That does it. We’re gettin’ outta here.”

“But-”

Husk looked Angel in the eye and said flatly, “All he’s thinkin’ bout is saving face, spider. That means hauling you back to the Studio to do Lucifer knows what to you.”

“But-”

“You fucked him up really good, but now there’s three of them. And I just know he’ll go after one of us to get to you. It worked well enough the first time round, right?”

Angel stopped, stunned into silence by the rebuke. He could hardly argue with that and they all knew it. 

Henroin looked away. 

“Come on, Angel,” Charlie said, smiling gently. “You did really well, but let us take you home. OK?”

Home.

Angel swallowed hard. He looked around at them all, a lump in his throat. He nodded.

“Sure,” he said. “OK.”

“Alastor,” Husk called. “You down with that? Get us outta here.”

The Studio staff overheard him, too, a lot of them looking fearful. But Summer wasn’t. She bumped Dia’s arm with hers and the two of them exchanged a look. 

“Go, Angel,” she said. “We’ll cover for you - all of you.”

“What?” Vaggie said, confused. “Why?”

“’Cus we owe Val some Hell.” She looked around the rest of the staff, the same change happening on the rest of their faces – fear turning into grim determination. “Don’t worry. We’ll be right behind you. What’s Val got left to threaten us with? We’re his bouncers. And we’re done guarding the Studio.” She looked pointedly at the spear in Angel’s hands. “Get that thing outta here and we’re golden.” 

Alastor watched the development with a cat like smile, gesturing Nifty over to him. He took back his coat, putting it on with a flourish, and hoisted the little demon under one arm. 

“All righty then, ladies and gentlemen!” With a pleased look Angel’s direction, he faced the Overlords once again. “Then let’s be taking our leave.”

Vox growled. “Like fuck you will…”

The Hazbins drew close together, Molly sticking close to Angel’s side with Henroin right next to her. 

“Nice job, Tony,” she whispered. 

Henroin didn’t say a word. 

As if someone had fired a starting gun, all three groups sprang forward at the same time. The Studio staff rushed the Overlords, spraying them with a hail of gunfire to hold them back with sheer force of bullets alone. The Hazbins moved around the side of the cistern, inching towards the other gate and only other way out of the sewers. 

Vox saw what they were doing, his eyes locked on Angel and he summoned his cables again, using them to force the Studio heavies to fall back, the rest of them occupied by finding off the mad speed of Velvet’s wild axe swings. 

Angel tried to hurry up but the bullet wound in his leg made it difficult to go any faster, the adrenaline from the fight fading and leaving him exhausted. The Hazbins tried to block Vox’s path but Val joined in, using what little of his red smoke he could still control to sweep them aside, leaving Angel standing exposed before them. 

He clutched the spear tight and stood his ground but at the second he was about to block Val and Vox at the same time he was suddenly shielded by a wall of black tentacles. 

Angel looked over, shocked, as Alastor raised a shield before him. “Well, my fine fellow!” he said jovially. “You didn’t think I’d let some two-bit shock jockey get in the way, did you?”

Vox’s screen crackled with angry static. “You…” he growled.

And then a boot struck him in the face, smashing his screen. 

Summer straightened up, hopping on one foot with a victorious look on her face. Dia giggled, shocked and the two bumped fists. “Learnt that move from the best!” she yelled at Val. 

The Overlord growled, pushing Vox out of the way and sending one last wave of grabbing red fingers at Angel, the intangible arms able to dodge over the top of Alastor’s attempts to block much more easily and Angel raised the spear to strike-

And was lifted out of the way and into the air, Husk’s wings beating furiously to swoop them over the cistern. They landed at the gate, the rest of the Hazbins close behind and for a few steps Angel was swept along with the group, but the pain in his leg was getting so bad he couldn’t manage more than a few steps at that pace. 

He leant against the wall, waving at the others. “You go on ahead- I’m all right, I’ll catch up with-”

“Not happening,” Charlie said. “Can you lean against someone?”

Vaggie bit her lip as the furious noise from back in the cistern started to follow them up the tunnel. “They’re not gonna be able to hold them off forever…”

Henroin pushed through the group and stopped in front of Angel, looking him up and down. He was staring at Angel’s boots but instead of the usual snide comment about his dress sense, he just said simply, “Leg’s bleeding. Fucker shot ya, didn’t he?”

And then he turned around and knelt down in front of him. “Here. Get on my back.”

Angel blinked. Was he actually suggesting-?

“Come on,” he urged. “We ain’t got all day.”

Angel moved forward, moving the spear to his other hands but still a bit uncertain as he leant his arms against Henroin’s shoulders and let his father lift him in a piggy back. They held still for a second as Henroin leant further forward, adjusting Angel’s weight against him. Angel felt more than a little foolish – his head was near the roof of the tunnel. He started to fidget.

“I’m too heavy, lemme down-”

“Ya ain’t heavy,” Henroin said, starting to walk before he could get down. “Ya just got tall, Tony.” He kept his grip, though, even chuckling to himself. “Really, really tall.” 

Angel bit back any further protests. It felt odd being carried like this. Now Henroin had adjusted his balance, Angel actually felt light. His wounds ached and he was exhausted, but he felt weirdly reassured...almost like he was little again, back when everything was simple. 

Henroin must have read his mind, because he chuckled suddenly. “Hell, this takes me back.”

“Yeah?” Angel said, deciding to play dumb. “Why’s that?”

“You did this a lot when you were little. Got in trouble and banged up your knees. Niss always was more level headed than you.”

The usual comparison – why couldn’t you be more like your brother Niss, more like Molly? - except Angel couldn’t hear any disappointment or judgement in his voice. More like he was just stating a fact. 

And maybe he was. Niss was the cautious one; he’d likely been away on a job so long because he was doing recon on whatever target Henroin had picked. Angel was the one who jumped in and figured it out later. It had taken engaging an Overlord in the fight of his life to make him plan ahead.

“Boy,” Henroin said, adjusting his grip as Angel started to slip down his back. “Ya gotta lot to tell him once we get outta this godforsaken sewer.”

“Mm,” Angel said, non-committally. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoken to Niss. Because of all this with Val, he’d spoken to Molly and Henroin more in the last few days than he had in literal decades. 

Weird, to say the least.

So then what? If – when – they made it out of this mess, what the hell was he gonna do next?

Right now, he’d give anything for his bed in that stupid hotel he’d been missing so much. 

The group hurried down the tunnel, making it to the ladder and the way out with Alastor bringing up the rear. Henroin let Angel back down, pushing him up the ladder first and the Hazbins all hurriedly climbed, the noise of Val screaming in rage chasing them all up into the daylight. 

“We gotta get away from here, fast,” Vaggie said, shoving the manhole cover back into place. “Your dad’s station wagon is parked just over there.”

“It ain’t gonna hold all of us,” Husk said. “Where’d you dump the limo when you nicked it?”

“Couple streets over, around-”

Just then the limo came suddenly screeching around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of them. There wasn’t even time for Angel to get out a What the fuck? before the door popped open and one of Alastor’s shadow men stepped out, holding the door open for them with a smile that stretched from eye to eye. 

The Hazbins didn’t bother stopping to exchanged disturbed looks and just piled in, the limo screeching off down the street as soon as they were all inside. Angel was cramped up against Molly and Henroin, spear resting on his lap, but he managed to swivel around in the back to look out the window, watching and waiting for Val to burst out of the sewers and drag them back. 

But the Overlord didn’t appear.

They made it to the corner, then past it until the street was out of sight. But Angel kept watching until they’d turned another corner, then another, and another. 

Angel didn’t realise they were all looking at him until he finally turned around. 

The group stared back at him, everyone bar Alastor looking battle-worn but relieved. “Well,” he said, struggling to find words. “What, uh...what are we gonna do now?”

There was a moment’s pause before Molly abruptly burst into tears and threw her arms around him, sobbing. Then Charlie joined in, followed by Nifty and Vaggie and even Husk was patting him on the arm, all of them holding him tighter and warmer than he’d been held in years.

Angel hid his eyes against Molly’s hair, raising his arms and hugging them all back. 

But he was sure even his six hands wouldn’t be enough to keep everything that had become so precious to him within reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end this time to avoid spoilers! I thought long & hard about whether to kill Valentino off here, but in the end I decided against it. This isn't quite the end - we have a few epilogue-esque bits to come and a big twist I'm saving for that, so hope you stick around a few chapters more! Thanks for all the comments & support so far, I don't know if I've ever had so many reads on a fic before!


	20. The Patch Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Into the home run stretch now! I’m wrapping things up in the next few chapters, so the remaining threads are going to be resolved. Thanks for all reviews so far :D

Once the group had had a minute to recover themselves and make sure they were far enough away from the sewers where they’d left Val, they started to discuss where they should go next.

“I wanna check on the hotel, but that might not be a good idea straight away,” Charlie said. “Or maybe I’m just overthinking it. The Overlords are probably going to regroup before they try anything else. Depending how well the Studio staff fight them off, they might have their hands full for some time…”

“Hell, I wish I’d caught it on video when that girl nailed Vox in the face,” Molly said suddenly. “I could watch that on repeat.”

Alastor’s smile broadened and Nifty opened her mouth to say something, stopping short when the Radio Demon gave her a sharp look. 

“Anyways, there’s our place,” Molly said. “Youse could crash there for a bit, if that’s OK with…”

She trailed off, noticing the charged look that Angel was giving her. 

“That’s OK,” he said quickly. “You’ve done enough already.”

Henroin said nothing, looking pensive. 

Vaggie bumped Charlie’s arm, clearing her throat to break the silence that had suddenly fallen. “Hey, hun, didn’t you say your Dad had a summer home out near the lakeside? It might be good to get away from Pentagram City altogether while we figure out a plan of action.”

“That sounds delightful!” Alastor said with a sudden screech of feedback. Molly and Henroin exchanged looks, evidently uncomfortable at being in close quarters with him, but they didn’t argue. “An excellent spot for clearing one’s mind, I have no doubt at all, and perhaps some fun activities like making big dinners, hunting-”

“We’re not going there to celebrate, Al,” Charlie said, laughing nervously. “But good idea, Vaggie. Let’s head over there. It’s private property, so short of someone breaking in, no one will know we’re there.”

Alastor settled back in his seat, resting his staff by his side. “As you will, my dear. But I believe there are so few times in this afterlife that one has cause to celebrate. One must seize any opportunities to throw a party, wouldn’t you agree, my friend?”

It took Angel a second to realise the Radio Demon was speaking to him. He shifted in his seat, about to nod and agree but the pain in his leg flared up and he was reduced to digging his nails into his knee to keep himself quiet. 

“Your poor leg, Tony,” Molly said, trying to get a better look even as Angel tried to move away from her curious gaze. “But it’s damn impressive that’s the worst you’ve got after fighting an Overlord, right, Pops?”

Henroin grunted, didn’t answer. Molly’s smile drooped. 

“I bet you get some cuts ‘n bruises too, don’t you?” she said instead. Angel was about to tell her to stop fussing when Husk bumped his arm. 

“Lemme take a look at that wound when we get there,” Husk said. They all looked at him, surprised. “What?” he said grumpily. “Think I never patched up a wound before?”

“OK,” Angel said. “...Thanks, kitty cat.”

And Husk turned away, grumbling again. 

Charlie reached into her pocket and fished out her phone. “Better tell Razzle and Dazzle where to meet us. They were looking after the hotel, I don’t want them staying there all by themselves.”

Angel bit his lip, looking down. 

The urge to open his mouth and spill about Val’s threat to burn down the hotel came over him. He knew he was due a damn good tongue lashing from Vaggie, Charlie and definitely Husk, but they were all just too tired and shell-shocked from the day’s events to focus on anything besides the present moment.

Angel felt the same. Now the fight was over and the adrenaline was leaving him, he felt the urge to throw himself down and just sleep for a week. 

Or a hard drink. He could definitely use one of those. 

But when he looked over at Husk and smiled, and the bartender held his gaze only a second before looking away and crossing his arms, he knew he couldn’t rest yet. Couldn’t tap out. 

He owed them that much. It was (much as it crawled his skin to think of it that way), the right thing to do.

But he couldn’t begin to imagine where he should start.

*

Charlie took a minute to find the key from an impressive keyring in her pocket. She found a fancy looking white one and slotted it into the door. “OK, here we go…”

“Let me go first,” Vaggie said, drawing her spear. “Sometimes squatters break into these places…”

Vaggie led the way into the house, the group coming out into a huge front room with fancy sofas and a huge fireplace on one end, a kitchen on the other. Molly wandered over to the big TV on one wall.

“Wow,” she said. “Must be nice to be really really rich. Can’t imagine.”

Charlie flushed. “I’ll grab some water for everyone and we can get cleaned up. There’s plenty of bathrooms, if you want to-”

Molly and Henroin went upstairs to poke around, ignoring her completely. “...or go investigate,” she said sheepishly. “That’s good too.”

Vaggie looked annoyed for all of a second before rolling her eyes and collapsing on the nearby sofa. She gave Alastor a much hard look as he sat down near her, his legs neatly crossed. 

Angel noticed all of the Hazbins looking at him a bit critically. While Angel had always felt a bit creeped out by Alastor – who wouldn’t? - all the tension in the room was certainly...new. 

Husk cleared his throat. “C’mon, spider. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Angel swallowed, nodding to Charlie and Vaggie before following Husk up the stairs. The place was even more huge than he’d first realised – long corridors with a lot of rooms, his Pops and sister already having disappeared behind one of them. Husk opened a few of the doors before finding a plain white bathroom. 

“Park it right there,” Husk growled, pointing towards the bath. Angel did as asked, struggling to fold up his long body with it being so low down. “Take your boot off, I’ll see what I can find.”

“Alright…” Angel said, fidgeting as Husk turned to the cabinet on the wall and started to root around in it. He’d never gotten used to the fluffy hoof-like beans at the end of his long legs, avoided taking his boots off in all of his films, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. 

He pulled the zipper down, having trouble prying the leather away from his leg at first because of the blood that had been pulling beneath it. Angel winced, yanking it free from his fur. He felt a little better about taking them off in front of Husk – there was so much mess to the bottom of his leg that he doubted Husk would even notice he had fluffy hoof-beans. 

Angel raised his leg into the bath, already getting blood everywhere. Husk turned around, a first aid kit in his hands. He stared at Angel’s leg, not looking disgusted or the slightest bit repulsed, then actually climbed into the bath and produced a pair of tweezers. 

“All right, think you’re gonna have to climb in too,” Husk said, struggling to get a good angle on the bullet wound. 

“Neva thought this’d be the first time we were in the bath together,” Angel quipped, lifting himself over the side and sitting on the cold floor. Husk just raised an eyebrow and shifted his position, using his own leg to prop up Angel’s. 

“This might sting a bit,” he said, moving the tweezers down and reaching right into Angel’s wound, stabilising his leg with his other hand when Angel flinched. The pain mounted and he hid his face against his shoulder, gripping the side of the bath with both hands until he felt Husk grasp onto something with the tweezers. “All right, got it. Just a second.”

“Mm-hmm,” Angel said, his voice strained. 

Husk pulled back and Angel felt the pain increase, the burning worsened as Husk raised the tweezers with a mess of flesh and fur stuck around it. “That’s got it. Wanna keep it?”

“Eh.” Angel shrugged, trying to look indifferent even as the pain made it hard to talk. “Stick it down there and I’ll think about it.” 

Husk did as asked, starting to clean up the wound. There was silence between the two of them, Angel actually grateful that Husk wasn’t much for conversation this one time. Especially as he cleaned up the wound, putting a fluid on the wound that stung so much Angel had to bite down on his knuckles to keep quiet. 

“Almost done,” Husk said, taking out a roll of gauze. “Not bad, soldier.”

“What, this?” Angel said, faking a smirk as Husk started to bind up his leg. “This’s nothin’.”

He half-meant it, too. He was something of a legend in the Studio to the new hires especially for having done five films in a row and then headlined at a club that night. The next day he had been so sore and exhausted he could barely move, and had practically begged for someone to bring him something to ease the pain – a salve or drink or drugs, he didn’t care.

Val had praised him that day, for maybe the first time in months. Praised his stamina, used him as a barometer for his other employees to measure up to…

Husk finished off wrapping his leg up and scooted back. He passed Angel a little bottle of antiseptic. “You wanna clean up those scratches?”

“Sure…” Angel pulled his leg back, trying not to wince at how sore it still was. He looked Husk over, noting the scratches the bartender had. His eyes fell on the bite mark Angel had left on his neck, and Angel swallowed. Hard. “You, uh, wanna clean that one up?” He smirked. “Or ya could just tell everyone it’s a lovebite?”

Husk’s eyes turned flinty. He stared Angel down, silent. 

Angel’s laugh died. His smile faded and he looked away, cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbed his neck. “I, uh...guess I should apologise for bitin’ ya. Y’know, cus...it probably hurt and all that.”

Husk grunted. “Was that the apology?”

“Uh…” Angel ran a hand through his hair. Sitting here in the bath in a simple shirt and shorts, his exposed leg bandaged up felt like lightyears away from his glamorous life in the Studio. But he wanted to be here. He didn’t want to run anymore. “I, uh...just couldn’t let ya stop me leavin’, you know? I wanted to keep the Hotel safe, an’ all that.”

“Oh yeah? Guess I can believe that, with how hard you went after Val.”

“Heh, yeah. I did a number on ‘im, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You did a number on me, too.” Husk stood, moving to get out of the bath and go to the door. Angel grabbed the side of the bath, blurting out a desperate, “I’m sorr-” when Husk suddenly turned back.

“Listen, spider,” he said. “You don’t gotta apologise this time. I ain’t good at that shit either.”

“Uh-huh? You serious?”

“Yeah.” He smirked right back at Angel, still managing to look grouchy even then. “But ya gotta promise you’ll never pull that shit again. And you better never bite me again.”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Not unless you ask me to,” he quipped. Husk stared him down again and he sobered up, feeling like he had bugs crawling under his skin with this conversation. No one apart from Molly (and then Charlie) had held him to any standard in years, had never expected anything from him beyond what they could buy. Even with Cherri, they were more partners in crime than anything else…

Angel lifted himself up, taking the weight off his damaged leg by perching on the side of the bath immediately. He held Husk’s gaze, struggling to know if he was communicating sincerity well enough through his own eyes. It was so rare he needed to do that, either. 

“I promise,” he said. “I promise I won’t run out again. Or bite ya. Unless ya ask me to.”

Husk scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Hmph. Good enough,” he said. But he was smiling. 

Angel started to pick through the first aid kit, looking for a plaster that could cover some of his scratches. He might as well get used to the idea that he was going to be looking less than his best for a little while…

He thought Husk would leave, but he didn’t. The bartender hovered by the door for a second longer.

“Need something else, Husky?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Husk said, so straightforwardly it took Angel aback. “What you said back at the hotel, in Italian? Wasn’t it, ‘I wish we could have been friends?’”

Angel flushed. “You- you speak Italian?”

“Yeah.” Husk was fidgeting now, like he usually did whenever he was planning to say more than five words about something. “Ya got everything screwed up, spider. Ya wanna be friends or some shit, I can handle that. But ya can have a friend without – y’know-”

He struggled to get the words out and it suddenly clicked for Angel what he was trying to say. “Sleepin’ with ‘em?”

“Yeah. That.” He cleared his throat, looked away. “You’re, uh, the flirty type. I get that. But sometimes it’s on purpose, right? That ya ain’t bein’ real with me.”

Angel bit his lip. He couldn’t deny it; he’d made a talent out of being ‘Angel Dust’ so constantly it felt physically uncomfortable to do otherwise. Especially in front of...well, other men. With Cherri and Charlie, it came a bit easier, but not much. 

“...Are ya tryin’ to say ya don’t hate me, Husk?” he asked instead.

Husk shrugged. “Ya ain’t all bad. So no, if ya need to hear it out loud.” He scratched the door with his claw, grunting again. “I ain’t got blondie’s way with words, but the Hotel’s just a dumb dusty old building. Ya gonna protect it, you have to protect yourself, too. Get it?”

“...Yeah.” Angel cursed himself for not being able to find the words, hoping Husk knew he understood without him having to say it. 

“’Sides, didn’t you say we’d get a drink after this was over?”

“Yeah.” Angel stood, offered his hand. “We did, didn’t we?”

Husk looked at his hand, surprised him by bumping fists with Angel instead. “Good. That’s all I gotta say then, spider. I’m headin’ back now. I can wear bruises better than you.” He opened the door for real this time, looked back once more. “You comin’?”

Angel leant down to take off his other boot. He couldn’t possibly walk evenly with only one on, and he’d never get the other one back on over the wrapped gauze. He laid them both over his arm, smiling at the bartender. “You better believe it,” he said.


	21. The Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Into the home run stretch now! I’m wrapping things up in the next few chapters, so the remaining threads are going to be resolved. Thanks for all reviews so far :D

Once the group had gotten patched up, they all gathered again in the main room. Angel was surprised to see Henroin helping Charlie to prepare what drinks and food was still in the house, the two of them chatting casually. Molly was obviously already totally taken with Charlie, happily talking her ear off and was even started to thaw Vaggie’s normally frosty exterior. 

Angel smiled, watching the scene from a distance. Then something happened: Charlie nuzzled against Vaggie, with so much intimate affection that their love was clear to anyone watching. Molly didn’t blink an eye but Henroin leant back, tensed and Vaggie noticed. 

Charlie looked from Vaggie to Henroin, freezing up herself. She looked around for something to distract her and then her eyes fell on Angel. 

“Angel!” She looked down, noticing he wasn’t wearing his boots. “Oh, good, Husk patched up your wound?” 

“Yeah.” He fidgeted, walked over and boosted up to take a seat at the bar. “What’re you guys making?”

Vaggie shrugged, her arms pinned by her sides. “Just burgers. There wasn’t much in the house to use.” 

Alastor made a disapproving noise. Angel had overlooked him before; he was stood at one of the other counters and chopping tomatoes with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Ah, if only we had some better supplies!” Alastor sighed, radio feedback whining harshly. “But, I imagine it will suffice for now!”

Nifty was sat up on the counter next to him, doing something intently on a mobile phone. She put the screen before him, but Alastor simply said, “Not now, Nifty, my dear,” before pushing it away. She pouted, then went back to tapping away. 

Husk pulled up a chair next to Angel and the Hazbins helped Charlie and Henroin to finish serving the food. They all ate quietly for a bit, too hungry to say much to one another. 

Angel swallowed a bite of his burger, trying to work up to apologising to everyone else. Hell, why did this have to be so difficult? At least in the life he’d been living before, he could just shrug off anything that happened to basically anyone that wasn’t himself or Cherri.

He cleared his throat, figuring he’d start small. “I never asked youse how you found me so quick. Did Al do some vodoo or somethin’?”

There was a sudden, tense silence amongst the Hazbins. Angel looked around, confused. “Did – did I say somethin’ wrong?”

“You didn’t,” Vaggie said, glaring over at Alastor who was poking at his burger unenthusiastically. The Radio Demon looked up, his grin widening. “Apparently someone had been using their crazy shadow powers to keep an eye on you the whole damn time.”

Angel looked over at Alastor, frowning. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” Vaggie said sharply, even popping the P. “You- uh, you wanna explain that one, Al?”

But instead of looking abashed at everyone looking at him critically, Alastor only brightened. “Why yes, my dear! As you wish.” Charlie sighed, rubbing her temples as Alastor practically rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “You see, my friend, I did tell you when you left the Studio that the hotel was under my protection. And I am a man of my word, deal or no.”

“So you mean...wait, what the Hell d’ya mean?”

“Simple, my friend.” Alastor raised his hand and his shadow ripped itself free from the ground, waving jovially to them all. “My friends and I know everyone who came and went to the Hotel, no matter how they tried to sneak in.”

Angel stared at him, wringing his hands on the tabletop as his mind struggled to keep up with what he was hearing. “Then, so ya – ya knew Val had come to the Hotel from the start?”

Alastor tipped his head to the side, as if deep in thought. Then he simply said, “Yes. Yes, I did.” 

Angel’s jaw dropped. “The fuck? Why didn’t you do anything?”

Alastor’s grin turned shark-like. “Well…”

“He broke into my room, busted the window and left a threatening note attached to my pig.” Angel was standing now, all thoughts of eating forgotten. “And you knew about it the whole fucking time?”

“Yes. But I had the situation in hand, my friend! My shadows were keeping an eye on you and the Hotel. We would have gotten you out of Val’s clutches, one way or another.”

“But...but I thought…”

“That you were alone?” Alastor said, smile broader and crueller than ever. “My friend, had you simply told everyone about what was happening, you would never have been alone from the start. Regardless of what I did or didn’t, you decided to handle everything by yourself. Is that not true?”

Angel sank down into his seat, scowling. The wound in his leg was so painful and the food barely covered the hunger from all the running around and fighting he’d been doing the last few days. He didn’t need this shit now of all times.

But he couldn’t deny that Alastor had a point. 

“...Yeah. I mean, it’s true. I was just…”

“Just?” Charlie prompted gently. The others were watching him intently, Henroin staring the hardest. Angel felt himself wanting to fidget under their scrutiny, which was weird. He’d been eyeballed by far more people when he was wearing next to nothing and not felt this self-conscious. 

“Just, thinkin’ I was used to Val and his bullshit. I know his patterns, how to appease him. At first I was thinkin’ I’d go back to ‘im and cut a deal.”

“But why?” Vaggie asked, glaring at him. “Didn’t we all sit at a table and agree to handle the situation together, Angel?”

“Well, not all of us…” Molly muttered sadly.

“Yeah, I know we did…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno, I just...didn’t want you paying for my screw-ups. That’s all. I’m sorry I nicked the limo. And kept secrets from ya. And uh, stole from the bar.” He counted them off on his fingers, trying to recall if he’d forgotten anything off the list. The only other thing that came to mind was-

“Tony…” Henroin said softly, but then suddenly the doorbell rang. They all flinched, Charlie grabbing Vaggie’s arm when she grabbed for the angelic spear.

“It’s OK. It’s just Razzle and Dazzle.” She went to answer the door, leaving them in tense silence. Alastor’s static flared up again, turning into a jaunty 20’s -sounding tune. 

“...Everyone is rather gloomy!” Alastor said. “Perhaps I should make dessert to cheer everyone up?”

“Not hungry, Smiles,” Angel lied, pushing the remains of his burger away. 

But Alastor just kept smiling, apparently oblivious to the other Hazbin’s still giving him a hard stare. 

“Guess I owe you one, though,” Angel said. “You did get the others to help me out.”

“Oh?” Alastor said. 

“Yeah, I mean…” He sighed, still not pleased at knowing Alastor must have known what he was eating at him the whole time before he ran off. But it needed saying. “Val would’ve called the Studio staff and then Vox and Velvet on me. I busted Val up good but no way I woulda won against everyone else. Even if I’d killed Val, I don’t think the Studio staff and me could beat Vox and Velvet when they found out…so, thanks.”

“Hm. You are welcome, my fine fellow!” He grinned broadly. “Though if you realise that, you must also realise your plan was the height of recklessness!”

“Well, duh, I was fightin’ a fuckin’ Overlord. I’m not stupid enough not to know that’s reckless.”

Husk was looking peeved again and Angel realised he should maybe shut up before he dug himself any deeper. 

Luckily Charlie came racing back through just then, with a familiar pink shape in her arms – Fat Nuggets. He snuffled happily on seeing Angel, wriggling in Charlie’s arms to get to him. 

“Look who I have!” she said, laughing at the speed Angel was up out of his chair and grabbing him out of her arms, hugging him tight and then hugging Charlie for good measure, too. She was laughing happily, Fat Nuggets licking him just as joyously. 

“Thanks, Princess,” he said. “I don’t know what I woulda-”

“Thank Razzle and Dazzle, too,” she said. “They brought him over for you-”

Angel saw the little goat-creatures hovering nervously nearby, looking curiously up at the tall spider demon. Angel scooped them both up into the hug with his other arm and in the next second Molly had joined in. 

“Hey, I want in on this,” she said, squeezing Angel tight. “Is he your pet, Angel? He’s adorable!”

Angel let them all out of the hug, holding Fat Nuggets up for her to see. “Molly, this is Fat Nuggets, my pig. Nuggs, this is Molly, my sister. Be nice and don’t bite her.”

Of course there was little chance of that – the minute he passed Nuggets over for her to hold, Molly was cradling him like a baby and tickling his stomach and the pig was squealing with total delight. Angel watched, unable to hold back the fond smile Molly had always been able to bring out of him. He turned to thank Charlie again when he realised she had spotted the look on his face.

And she was crying. A happy smile was on her face, but she was crying. 

Vaggie was by her side immediately, taking her arm. “Hun?”

“You OK, Charls?” Angel asked. Hell, how could she be? She must be exhausted after everything he’d put her through. 

But Charlie nodded, leaning forward and wrapping her arms tight around him, burying her face against his fluff. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m just so relieved you’re OK, Angel. I was w-worried sick about you!”

“...Oh,” Angel said, a lump forming in his throat. He couldn’t think what to say, so he ended up awkwardly patting her golden-haired head. “You don’t gotta cry about that, Princess. I’m always OK. I’m tough.”

Molly watched her, tears blooming in her own eyes. Angel reached out and cupped her cheek, feeling worse by the second. He could barely handle Charlie’s tears, he didn’t think he could take it if his kid sister broke down, too. 

But she didn’t. She just raised her hand to hold his, tight.

It was the same feeling he’d had in the limo, a feeling so rare it was hard for him to trust it was real.

Of being loved.

*

Once everyone had settled down, they all started to see about preparing for bed. Molly and Henroin decided to stay over for the night: there was no getting back to the city without the limo, anyway, and they both felt confident enough that they’d hidden their station wagon far enough out of sight that it would be safe for a night. 

They investigated the house, finding unopened toothbrushes and the like, probably left by Charlie’s mother since she said her father was far too busy and absent-minded to remember to stock the house, summer home or otherwise. 

There wasn’t much for pyjamas and Angel was too tired and sore to change, so he didn’t bother. Molly delighted in finding and customising a nightie though, and soon they were having a mock picnic in the main room, the two of them laid out on the sofas while everyone else had gone to pick out a room of their own for the night. 

Niffty had surprised him by quickly hugging his leg, saying a rapid-fire goodnight and then running off to room with Alastor. 

Molly flopped down on the sofa opposite his, watching with a wry look on her face. “Man, she’s really attached to that smiling creepazoid, isn’t she?”

Angel shrugged, propping his injured leg up on a pillow like that would actually help with the aching pain, then laid down on his side. “Seems like it. Think she has a taste for ghouls ‘n goblins, personally.”

“Shame. He’d be cute if he weren’t Ripper grinning all the time.”

“What, Al? Yeah, he ain’t exactly hard on the eyes.”

Molly rose up on one elbow, grinning. “But you gotta crush on the kitty cat, dontcha Tony?”

Angel blushed. “What? Y’know I flirt with a lotta people in my line of work, Molls. It don’t mean...”

She giggled. “I knew it. He’s more your type, after all.”

That stopped Angel cold. Of course he had his preferences, everyone did, but it’d been awhile since he had the luxury of thinking about his ‘type’. When he was on Val’s payroll, his type was just whoever was paying most that week, and ‘not a girl’ if he was lucky. 

Either way, the last few days really reminded him of what he liked about spending time with Molly. Besides the fact his twin was just the brightest sunbeam in Hell, she actually knew him. No one else could say with much certainty what his ‘type’ was, after all – Angel Dust was a chameleon who made it his business not to be known by anyone. But despite everything that had passed, the years he’d spent with Molly couldn’t be erased. 

She knew what he was thinking. She got it.

Molly laid back down on her back, pulling the selection of blankets she’d nicked from elsewhere in the house over her. “I’m gonna sleep here tonight. Bunk down here with me?”

“You got it, Molls.” In reality, he’d been planning on it, anyway. He didn’t really like the thought of sleeping alone tonight, and the sofa was just comfy enough to drift off on. He pulled up his own share of blankets, trying to cocoon his leg in the hopes the warmth would take the edge off the pain. It didn’t, but luckily enough he was dead tired, anyway…

He was just falling asleep when Molly said softly, “It goes for me too, y’know. I’m really, really glad you’re OK, little brother.”

“Mm.” Angel sleepily reached a hand out from under his blanket, finding hers across the space. “You too, Molls.” They laid on their sofas in the dark, breathing together, until they both fell asleep. 

*

It was the feeling of someone standing near him that woke Angel from sleep. He jolted awake, disoriented and taking a second to place the room and who it was nearby when he realised it was his Pops.

Henroin was already retreating, though, going to sit at the bar. He poured himself out a drink and sat down, facing away from Angel. Angel sat up, swinging his legs over the side and walking quietly over to the bar. Henroin spotted him, pushed out a stool for him to sit. 

“Can’t sleep, Pops?” he asked quietly, not wanting to wake Molly. 

Henroin just grunted. He stood and fetched another glass, putting it in front of Angel. “Here, Tony.”

“Uh...thanks.” He sipped the fizzy liquid, the taste taking him off guard. “This lemonade?”

“...Yeah. It was your favourite when you were little, remember?”

He did. Vaguely. It felt like a long, long time ago now. 

They both drank in silence for awhile. Angel got the feeling Henroin wanted to say something, but wasn’t for whatever reason. Probably he thought it wasn’t what Angel wanted to hear. He’d be like that sometimes – endless criticisms came easily to him, but when he had to deliver a knockout blow he’d let someone else do the hard work. 

Why break the habits of two lifetimes, then, Angel supposed. He drained his glass and set it down. 

“You don’t gotta stick around, y’know,” he said softly. “You wanna get back to the business, go for it. I’m sure we can arm twist Alastor into providing you guys with some protection. Ya ain’t gotta be stuck with me.”

Henroin looked over at him. “We’ll figure something out, Tony. We’re tough. Glad to see you picked that up, at least.”

Angel gave him a look and Henroin noticed. 

“What, you wanna tell me you taught yourself a lot of that?” He sighed. “All right. Guess that might be true, down here at least.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“That sweet blonde haired girl – her and the long haired one are sisters?”

“No,” Angel said, flatly. “They’re not.”

“Huh.” Henroin turned back to his drink. 

Angel sighed. He was tempted to just get up and go back to sleep. But then Henroin cleared his throat.

“Y’know, Tony, when were alive, I gotta tell ya - it’s a very particular feeling hearin’ rumours that your son’s frequentin’ – well-”

“Gay bars?” he supplied helpfully.

“Yeah. Those.” He ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass. Then he looked over at Angel. “But it’s another feelin’ entirely to have someone come to your house and tell you your son is dead from an overdose on something you never even heard of before mere hours after he called his little sister on the phone.” 

Angel looked down at his own glass. “Not a good one, then?” he said, his voice tighter than he’d intended it to sound.

“No, Tony,” he said, actually sounding offended that he had to ask. “Not a good one.”

When Angel spoke again, he barely got his voice above a whisper. “...You coulda fooled me sometimes, Pops.”

Henroin was quiet again. For a second Angel thought that was all he was going to get out of him, but then he sighed deeply. 

“You know...when we were talking about it at the garage – Molls and me – I realised how similar this all felt. You runnin’ off by yourself and doin’ something crazy. ‘Cept the last time you never came home again.”

Angel said nothing. Henroin’s face was drawn, his age showing on it. “And I got this bad feelin’ you might try somethin’ stupid against the Overlord and this time… this time ‘round, and he might actually end you for good.”

“..Sounds like somethin’ I’d do.”

“Yeah.” Henroin rubbed at his face, the mess of eyes he had scrunching closed. “And that was the worst feeling of all of them.”

“Yeah?”

Henroin was quiet again. Then he said, “Listen...what are you planning to do next?”

“Dunno. Gotta wait for the craziness to settle down first. After it does, I had a couple things in mind.”

“Mm?”

“Singing, actually. I miss performing. And I could easily go freelance.” He watched Henroin closely as he spoke. “I built up some regulars who would make a good client base. And I could join up with the Studio staff and do something without Val involved.”

Henroin’s expression was stony. “...Yeah. Guess that makes sense.”

Angel swallowed hard. He knew he’d have to be the one to say it, otherwise no one would. “I ain’t gonna stop being me, Pops. I know who I prefer sleepin’ with. I like the stage. I like the way I dress. I just forgot all that cus Big Vee fucked all of it up for me.”

“Yeah.” Another sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

“Do ya? Cause I ain’t got another seventy years to wait for you to be cool with it.”

“Another seventy, huh?” And suddenly Henroin chuckled. “How about one or two or five or ten?”

“What?”

“I can’t make ya any promises, Tony, I don’t want to when…” He cut off, sighing again. “Hell, I need a smoke. But what I’m tryna to say is – if it’ll keep ya from comin’ over to the garage and tellin’ me someone’s out to break your legs or somethin’ in future – maybe you could just... come over for dinner once in a while?”

“Uh…” Angel’s throat had felt so dry, but now he felt like laughing, too. It was such a small thing to offer, and he’d be stupid to accept table scraps (literally), but knowing the other Hazbins would be there for him…

“Sure,” he said. “We could do that. Maybe.”

“Molls’d – Molls’d really love it, y’know? And Niss won’t say anything, but I know you were his wingman on jobs ‘n stuff. He ain’t trusted anyone like he used to trust you.”

“Yeah. I’ll bet.”

“And in the meantime, you’re gonna be back at the Hotel, right?” 

“Yeah,” Angel said. “Yeah, I’ll be there…”

Henroin chuckled again. “Y’know, I think that place suits you. Buncha oddballs, but they seem nice.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they are.”

“Can handle themselves in a fight, too. You need that around here, Tony.” He looked over at Angel, dead serious. “You need a group to rely on.”

“Yeah,” he said, softly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Two more to go! Hope Henroin came across OK here. I wanted to get that balance between there still being a distance between him and Angel because of his prejudice but him trying to reconnect, even if in a totally faltering way. I think they both know Angel will never go back to the family business, one way or the other though. 
> 
> Please R&R if you can spare a minute!
> 
> I intend to have this story finished around Halloween and the big twist is coming next time around. We finally get to see what Alastor’s been up to all this time… *tension building intensifies*


	22. The Video

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I did change up a bit of what Al says here to take into account his characterisation in the prequel comic a bit more. Anyways, enjoy! Special thanks to everyone who commented on basically every chapter of this fic, even as it turned into a bit of a sprawling mess that’s now twice as long as it was supposed to be. Whoops :D Comments and kudos (almost to 100, whoo) would be much appreciated for the penultimate time!

“Angel!” Someone was nudging him, urgently. Angel opened his eyes, looking sleepily up at Vaggie. “Angel, get up, wake up!”

“What?” He blinked, trying to come around and totally failing. “Vaggie, wass the big idea?”

“This! This is the big idea,” she said, handing him her phone, some video or other open on the screen. Angel sat up, a mess of blankets falling off his skinny form as he leant back against the sofa. 

He spotted Charlie standing close behind her, an extremely worried look on her face and her hair still messy with bedhead. “Angel, it’s – you’ve gotta see it-”

Molly was up now, too, sitting next to him and looking at the mobile. She gasped, grabbed his arm. “Is that-?”

Now he was more awake, the title of the VoxTube video jumped out at him:

BAD BITCH ANGEL DUST BEATS RAT LORD VALENTINO IN SEWER FIGHT! [REUPLOAD]

And the views were already 1 million and counting, the likes climbing nearly as much, a big red tag reading TRENDING #1.

“What the fuck?” he said. The others were starting to appear in the room, seeing what the noise was about, as Angel hit play and put it to fullscreen. 

Despite reading the title, he couldn’t quite believe what he saw before his multiple eyes: it was him, fighting Valentino. Cornering Valentino. Screaming all the things he’d wanted to say for years at Valentino.

Him cutting off Valentino’s hands.

The audio and video quality was a bit wobbly – it was obviously taken from a phone, going by the aspect ratio – but what was happening onscreen was unmistakeable. Every word he’d yelled at Val was coming through loud and clear, the demon filming even moving carefully around to catch the look of fear on Val’s face from the side on. 

Angel didn’t make a habit of watching back his own films, he’d only looked if Val had said he needed to study and improve on something. But catching sight of his own image splashed around town or the web was unavoidable and he’d easily fallen into the habit of scrutinising his flaws, his weight, his expression, anything. 

Even his Instagram had been strictly controlled for content, up until recently. 

But this? This was a different beast entirely. He barely wore any makeup compared to his usual, nothing radical about his outfit of plain shirt and shorts. Heels missing from his boots, taking away his extra height. Face scratched, side and leg bloodied. 

Far from his best look. 

But he loved everything about it. He wasn’t trying to be intimidating in the video - he was too far into the fury for that – but he was anyway. When he advanced on Valentino in the video, he could see his own power, right there on the screen. Captured and preserved forever, right here in front of him. 

Everything about it was raw, was real. 

Best film he’d never made, here on a shaky phone cam with audio that crackled every time he raised his voice. 

The panicked voice of Vox cut onto the scene and the video abruptly ended. 

Angel automatically went to replay it, transfixed. The others were less enthusiastic, all of them talking frantically amongst themselves. 

“Who the Hell filmed this?” Vaggie cried. “And why? Why put it out? Just for the fun of it?”

“And what’s with that title?” Molly said drily, rewatching the moment Val lost his hands with as much enthusiasm as Angel had. 

Now he’d gotten over the initial shock, Angel noticed something about the video he’d overlooked before, something obvious – it was filmed from a pretty low angle, almost like the demon who took it was just a child. And something else – the channel that had made it was a new one called Schwiffty Clean. 

He looked up, the pieces snapping into place just as he spotted the little demon coming down the stairs. 

“Niffty,” he said. Everyone else looked over at her too and Niffty froze in the sudden spotlight. “Hey, Niffty! C’mere a minute!”

She walked over, already wringing her dress in her hands. “Um, yes?”

He turned the phone around. “Didja film this? Was this you?”

She bit her lip, her one pupil shrinking. She nodded.

“What?” Vaggie cried. “Why?”

“Um...c-cus-”

“Because I asked her to!” Alastor said brightly, coming down the stairs right behind her. 

The atmosphere in the room turned to ice, Angel sitting stunned in his seat. Hell, he knew Alastor was wily and did as he pleased, but this…

“Why?” he demanded, standing up. The hand holding Vaggie’s phone started to shake, gripping it tight in his fist. “Why the Hell would you do that?”

Alastor considered, tipping his head to one side. “Perhaps you ought to look at the video again, my dear fellow?”

Angel narrowly resisted the urge to hiss ‘don’t call me that’ at Alastor and looked again. He scrolled through the video at double-speed, not seeing anything new in it. Molly was looking over his shoulder and she reached over and jabbed the screen, scrolling down. 

“Tony, the comments.”

Angel had almost forgotten about that. The number of comments was huge, numbering in the thousands. He started to read:

saveTheEye 50 mins ago  
GET HIM! KILL THE RAT! #StrikeBack #FireInTheStreets

hellIsOtherPeople 20 mins ago  
Damn, if I didn’t have a crush on Angel before…

RadioFangirl 2 hours ago  
Lol did u see the look on Vee’s face? LOLOLOL

GoldenEye 60 mins ago  
Bastard got what was coming #StrikeBack #FireInTheStreets

TravisBirdman 5 mins ago  
Get you a spider that can do both! Get ‘im, hot stuff!!

Lil’ Monster 2 hours ago  
Those fucklords have been in charge long enough #StrikeBack

Angel scrolled down the seemingly never-ending deluge of comments, overwhelmed by the flood of approving comments from other demons. But more than that, the same hashtag was popping up again and again and again. 

He clicked on it, immediately taken to a never-ending stream of videos all showing the same thing: all out riots. Back in Pentagram City, anything that was associated with the Overlords was being taken as fair game for destruction – billboards with Val, TVs with Vox’s logo, all of it smashed up and set alight or painted with the same phrase STRIKE BACK. 

There were even crude drawings of the Hazbins spray-painted here and there, and a gorgeous stylistic rendering of a huge six armed Val facing down an eight-armed Angel, the silhouette of Angel swinging the spear in a glorious arc of light right through Val. 

He checked Cherri’s Insta too, found she was getting in on the act – unlike the others who were all pseudonymous posts taking credit without identifying themselves, she was posting pictures of herself destroying everything of Val’s she could find. And she wasn’t alone – the Studio staff were with her, Summer proudly flipping off the camera in one tagged for the Overlords to see. 

In another one her heel was pressed down on the smouldering remains of a billboard, the only part of the image left distinguishable being Val’s heart-shaped glasses.

The caption read:

For you, my best friend. So proud – come back and party with me!

Angel was touched, but he couldn’t help but be nervous with how much more brazen she was being than some of the other accounts. She needed to shut her account down before Val tracked her down and made her pay for it. He pinged her a quick message warning her to be careful when suddenly the network went down. 

They all flinched back, Charlie breaking from the group and rushing over to the TV. She switched it on, but all the channels were running with nothing but static. 

“Looks like Vox has finally lost his temper,” Henroin said, grimly. 

Charlie pressed to her mouth. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

“Oh, shit is right!” Molly said, elated. “Look at them! They might be Overlords but they’re gonna have their hands full standin’ up to this.”

Angel turned his attention to Alastor, who had apparently been rambling on and on to Vaggie this whole time. “...So I had Niffty film it and come up with a title!” he was saying. “My, I really am all fingers and thumbs when it comes to modern technology, so I asked her to think of something that would really connect with the youth of today. I like to think she really succeeded, don’t you? Niffty has advised me that the video has – how do you say it – gone viral? Of course, she has backups and the original file, just in case that bastard Vox tries again to remove-”

“Alastor.”

The voice was low, shaking and so totally uncharacteristic of Charlie that everyone froze.

She pushed her way to stand in front of the others, squaring up to Alastor with burning eyes. “I’m going to ask you something and I want you to answer me honestly.”

A slasher smile took over his face, but he made no move to threaten her. He stood with his hands folded behind his back, an unnerving light in his eyes. “Yes, my dear?”

“Did you plan all this from the beginning? Did you – did you use Angel to settle some score with the Overlords?”

As she spoke, Alastor’s smile was getting wider and more and more full of teeth. “My dear, are you asking if I – the Radio Demon, Hell’s master of broadcasts – knew there was no way a possessive rat like Valentino would let our effeminate fellow go without a fight? If I knew that Angel would fail to tell anyone, and would try to handle it by himself in the most reckless possible way?”

Charlie clenched her fists. “So you did-”

“I have to say, it was quite entertaining! The most entertaining fight I’ve been in for some years, and I haven’t had such fun since I was playing around all across the city!” He looked over at Angel, smile widening. “Don’t be put out, dear fellow! After all, I was betting on you to come out the victor – or at least keep the rat busy long enough for us to get to you.”

Angel rested a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, holding her back from launching herself at Alastor in a rage. Her shoulder shook under his hand, a feeling of repressed anger and barely contained power building in her little frame. 

“Princess,” he said, even though his own head was spinning. “Take – take it easy a sec.”

“How can I?” she said shrilly, Vaggie quickly standing at her other side and supportively taking her arm. “You knew Angel was vulnerable and you knew Valentino was threatening him – that’s bad enough! But risking his life to – to do what, exactly?”

“What else?” he said, calmly. “To make things more entertaining.”

“Hell tearing itself apart is entertainment to you?”

Alastor sighed as if disappointed in her. “My dear, I told you from the start I was here for entertainment. To watch the scum of the world struggle to better themselves for my amusement? Well, what could be a greater expression of that than lighting a spark to turn an entire city against the current predators that plague it.” His eyes narrowed, his smile curdling as the radio static briefly well away. “I must say, it was difficult...difficult to wait.” And again he looked over at Angel. “Doubtless you can handle yourself, but you’d permit to say I find Valentino’s treatment of you...distasteful, to say the least. Management behaving in such a way towards an employee is the height of rank unprofessionalism…” He trailed off, a dark anger growing in his eyes that stopped everyone cold. He looked over at Charlie again. “And I must ask, my dear, what would you rather? That bastards like Vox and his ilk continue to prey on those of fairer means, like our dear Angel Dust here?”

It was the first time Angel had seen that look of unrestrained anger on his face, and for some reason he felt it was genuine. Alastor did, genuinely, hate what Valentino had done to the porn star – at least on some level, anyway, and that was more than he’d ever expected to see from the Radio Demon. 

Angel cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. “Here, I gotta question for ya, Smiles. Ya owe me that much.”

Like a switch had been flipped, the smile turned back on. “You may ask me whatever you wish, my friend! I would never begrudge you that.”

“Heh...right.” He folded his arms. “Well, here it is: who are ya betting on this time?”

“Betting on?”

“Yeah. When ya joined the Hotel, ya said ya wanted to watch the likes of me fail. Is that how ya looking at it this time? Are ya expecting everyone to fail to beat the Overlords? To fail ta make things better?”

A strange, strange smile covered Alastor’s face. It wasn’t his usual jovial smile, or even his predatory ripper smile. It was more a sick smile, a smile of anticipation. 

His silence, and that smile, was answer enough.

“Hmph. I see how it is.” He marched forward and before anyone could stop him, seized the Radio Demon by the front of his suit and physically lifted him off the ground, holding him up to his own eye level. Alastor barely even reacted, looking more amused than anything else. 

“Angel, be careful!” Vaggie cried, grabbing at his arm.

“Get this through ya skull, Smiles. We ain’t gonna fail. I ain’t gonna fail, not again. I’m a freakin’ drug-abusing, gun-totin’, alcoholic pole-dancing son of a spider,” he growled. “And I’m gonna be bettah than all o’ that. Get it?”

And Alastor laughed. “Why, my fellow, you are making a habit of threatening people a little above you in rank, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. You could say that.”

Alastor patted his arm with his glove, merrily dangling from Angel’s grip. “Message received, loud and clear! I do hope you continue to entertain me in future.”

Despite himself, Angel smiled back at him. Then he dropped him, letting Alastor fall to the ground. The Radio Demon got up calmly, dusting down his suit with a happy grin and summoning his staff back into his hand. “I have, of course, been broadcasting the audio across the city for some time, too. Vox doesn’t control all the airwaves.” And he grinned maniacally, even started humming happily to himself.

“So, now what?” Molly asked, obviously unnerved. “We’re gonna get in on the action, right?”

Charlie took a deep breath, rubbing her temples and squaring her shoulders. Vaggie rubbed her shoulders, but the Princess didn’t seem to notice her. She had a resolute look in her eyes that said now wasn’t the time for comfort.

“First,” she said, “We need to get back to the Hotel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m pretty sure VoxTube is a canon thing that I read about somewhere. Idk, it amuses me to imagine Vox having a monopoly on the web in Hell while Alastor is the type of person who’d still be using Internet Explorer if he had to interact with the web at all. Two in one update today, too! Short epilogue coming next!


	23. The Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It’s a short one, so think of it as a coda. Thank you for everyone who reviewed/commented! This is more a thematic ending than a plot one, so it could also count as an epilogue. Anyways, that’s the sequel and possibly one of the longest fics I ever wrote in the books!

It was when Angel went to freshen up ready to go back to the city that it happened. His phone started to buzz. He’d actually forgotten about the burner, couldn’t begin to imagine who was calling. 

He fished the phone from his pocket and felt his blood turn cold. 

He didn’t have the number stored, but he knew it well enough. 

Valentino. 

The smart thing to do would be to not pick up. The smart thing to do would be to pull the damn memory card out of the thing. 

He picked up. 

The line connected, but Valentino didn’t speak right away like normal. There was no noise at all and Angel would have thought his phone was busted if it wasn’t for the call number ticking up slowly. 

He could talk first, he guessed. Nice to be able to, for once.

“Whaddya want, Val? If you’re going for a heavy breathing call to psyche me out or somethin’, you’re doin’ a lousy job so far.”

Still nothing. Angel rolled his eyes.

“I seen the video, if that’s why ya calling. I’m not the one who put it online. Not that I should spare ya the humiliation.”

And still nothing. Angel was starting to get unnerved by the silence. Was Val even there at all? Was it just Vox or Velvet trying to sound him out?

But no. His gut told him, this was Val. 

He sank down on the end of the bed, pensive. “Hey, Val. Ya remember when I landed ya that club contract that one time? I was real proud of it. Don’t think I ever got as much as a thank you outta you, though.”

He swung his legs back and forth, letting himself talk. Letting himself say some of the other things he hadn’t been able to before, when he’d been too angry to think straight.

Because if he was honest with himself – really honest – he felt more than just anger. He didn’t know why, but it was true. 

And maybe that was the worst thing of all. 

“We got a little drunk, and I asked ya – would ya kick me out of the Studio if I broke my legs or somethin’, and you flipped? Remember?” He almost sounded like he was reminiscing, like it was a fond memory. It was fucked up, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. “...I noticed that...ya never really answered me.”

He thought he heard Val clear his throat, recognising his voice even then. The Overlord was there.

“I can’t wait all my afterlife for ya to give a crap about me, Val. I loved seeing that damn video show everyone how pathetic you really are, not gonna lie…” He reached up, gripping at his floppy fringe. “But I wish it ain’t come to this. Real stupid, aren’t I? Ya always said I was. Guess ya weren’t wrong about that.”

A soft sound on the other end. Valentino wanted to say something, he could tell. But still, he said nothing. 

Maybe for once, he just couldn’t find the words.

Angel fell back against the bed. “Ok. That’s all I wanted to say. Don’t call me again. I ain’t gonna pick up.”

And right when he went to hang up, Val started to say something. Angel didn’t know what, because the line disconnected. Then he hung up the phone. 

Calmly and coolly, he went to the bathroom. Freshened up, went downstairs, burner phone in hand. 

He walked right up to Charlie and hugged her.

“Angel-?”

“Sorry.” He let go again. “He threatened to burn down the Hotel. Valentino did. That’s – that’s why I left. That’s what I didn’t tell ya.”

She nodded, smiled. “OK. Thank you for telling me. Was there, um, anything else?”

“Yeah. Actually.” He handed her the phone. “I, uh, need a new burner. Val just called me. I need a new number – one he ain’t gonna know about.”

“OK. I can do that.” She studied him, concerned. “Are you OK?”

“Eh. No.” He shrugged his shoulder, smirking. “But you know, Toots? I think maybe I’m gonna be.”


End file.
